Best Laid Plans
by UKWritr
Summary: Beckman decides Chuck's cover is too far gone after the Shaw incident, and recalls him to Washington. Can Chuck continue to juggle the spy life, and maintain close ties with the family he loves so much? No angst, just action and Charah.
1. Chuck vs the Desk Chapter 1

**Best Laid Plans**  
><strong><em>Part I: Volkoff<em>**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Chuck vs. the Desk—Chapter 1<span>**

**This is my first big story. It's going to be multi-chapter, split up into sections, with each section representing an 'episode'. I plan to write every episode in full before releasing it in sections; once every week. Hopefully this will keep it as continuous as possible, since writing an episode takes a while. Read and review (especially the action-y bit, it's my first time and it's hard to do them well), many thanks :).**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

_A North Korean flag_  
><em>Nuclear launch codes<em>  
><em>Kim Jong Il<em>  
><em>Funeral<em>  
><em>Engravings<em>  
><em>A map of South Korea<em>

_FBI insignia_  
><em>Agents shooting a civilian<em>  
><em>U.S. Treasury vault codes<em>  
><em>Money<em>  
><em>Incinerator<em>

_Call of Duty: Modern Warfare_  
><em>Reports on subliminal messaging<em>  
><em>Result: Failure<em>  
><em>CIA TSSCI stamp_

"What?" Chuck exclaimed in shock as the last flash registered with his brain, "is nothing sacred to you people?" he continued under his breath. The other flashes didn't bother him at all, since he knew they had already been taken care of, but the last one came as a bit of a shock. A shock his nerdy gaming side did not at all appreciate.

"Thank you, Patient INT-4. This session is now complete. Please exit from Door 7 and re-join your NSA handler." The grating, metallic voice of the voice synthesizer echoed through the large room, causing Chuck to groan as he sat up, before taking a cursory glance around the stark NSA lab bathed in harsh, white light. He was beginning to feel the onset of a flash induced headache as he clambered off the large grey MRI bed and hobbled over to the door where Casey was waiting. _"Why do I have to go through these tests…_" he thought, before remembering as his brain recovered from the multiple flashes, "_Oh yea, I ordered them performed on myself. Idiot, Chuck. You're an idiot._" Reaching the large steel door, emblazoned with a giant number '7', he paused, steeling himself for whatever snide remark Casey would have for him. Perhaps it would just be the standard "move it, moron," but as he caught a glimpse of himself reflected in the polished steel, he decided to expect something stronger. However, as he swung open the door, he felt warm arms throw themselves around his chest as squeeze tightly, as soft lips pressed to his face. "mmm… you're not Casey," he mumbled into Sarah's lips, "far too soft, and pretty," he added as he pulled back to look at his… girlfriend? It seemed to fit, until he felt she was comfortable to be more, anyway. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she smiled back before hugging him again. Chuck felt his headache drain away as she rested her head on his shoulder, and he reached over to kiss her again.

"Urgh," a groan came from next to the door, "save the lady feelings for home, we're professionals here at Fort Meade."

"Oh, hey Casey," Chuck grinned brightly, one arm still wrapped around Sarah, "you look happy."

"Move it, moron. I have to babysit you until you get back to Langley."

"Come on, Chuck," Sarah said, tugging his jacket, "we can catch up at your office."

**|CHUCK|**

**One month earlier…**

"Good work team," Beckman's voice came from the screen in front of them, "despite Mr Grimes'… mishap, you managed to successfully apprehend former Special Agent Shaw and retrieve the Governor device."

Calls of "thank you, General" sounded out in the secure room at the Burbank FBI field office—the new temporary HQ for Team Bartowski since the Buy More was destroyed—where Chuck, Sarah, Casey and Morgan were being debriefed by a surprisingly elated General Beckman.

"However," Beckman continued, "there is some fallout to deal with. Due to the creative way in which Agent Bartowski exposed Mr Shaw as a traitor, we—that is myself and the CIA Director—believe that his identity as a field agent has been exposed to too many international clandestine organisations to allow him to continue effectively." Beckman's words rang out through the room, stilling any smiles on the faces of Chuck, Sarah and Casey; who knew what was coming next. Morgan looked at them, clueless, but still able to sense that all was not right.

"What is Chuck's current status then, ma'am," Sarah laced the 'ma'am' with all the displeasure she could muster, and hoped Casey would back her up. "_Of course he will,_" she thought, "_maybe not two years ago, but now that Chuck is a full Agent…_"

"Agent Bartowski will have to retire from the field, obviously, however, we have also been discussing restarting the Intersect project, and Chuck, as the only current Human Intersect, is the best person to lead this job. He is being recalled to Langley as Head of Intersect Operations."

Sarah smiled as she heard that. Chuck wasn't getting put into a bunker, he was getting a promotion. She barely registered the screen click shut as she turned round to face Chuck and hugged him. "What's wrong?" she said, feeling his discomfort immediately and pulling back to look into a grimace, rather than the usual happy grin.

"Hmm? Nothing, nothing's wrong," Chuck said, smiling more fully now. He stilled as Sarah continued to look at him intently, her blue eyes meeting his brown, before she eventually shook her head and smiled back.

**CHUCK**

Sarah collapsed into Chuck's office at Langley in fits of giggles, followed by a suitably muted Chuck. "I can't believe you tried to use your analyst pass to get up here!"

"Hey! It's not my fault that I have three separate IDs and they all look the same," replied Chuck, who was trying in vain to maintain a look of indignation as a smile tugged at his cheeks.

"The look on that Agent's face!" she laughed out, falling into the visitor's chair and bursting into another fit of giggles before finally managed to get Chuck to break.

"Yea, okay, that was pretty funny…"

"Pretty? It was hilarious!"

"Okay, okay," Chuck said, holding his hands up in defeat and sitting in his chair opposite Sarah, "anyway… how was the mission?"

"It went well," Sarah nodded, "well, as well as things can ever go for us… surely you have the file though Chuck?"

"No, I don't actually. I tried to get it while you were on the plane, but they said it would be too suspicious if I keep getting files on you." He smirked slightly as he said the last bit, leaning in.

"Mmm, Agent Carmichael, have you been trying to spy on me?"

"I guess," whispered Chuck, "that all depends, Agent Walker," he closed the gap between them, "on whether or not you want me to."

There was a loud 'thud' as Chuck fell forwards off his chair and onto the floor, just as Sarah came crashing down on top of him. "Thank god," Chuck managed to sputter out in between laughs, "we haven't managed to get a desk in yet, or that could have hurt a lot more."

"I was actually going to ask you about that. You've been here for about three weeks and haven't managed to get a desk yet?"

"I can't find one that fits… and why do you care so much about the desk anyway?"

"Well…" Sarah purred, kissing down Chuck's neck whilst still lying on the floor, "it would have been the perfect height."

Chuck's breath hitched, and he rolled over so he was straddling her on the floor. "Don't. Start something. You can't. Finish," he hummed between kisses to her neck and lips.

"Who says I can't finish it?" the reply came just as Sarah flipped him over so she was sitting on top, pressing lightly down, "a desk would be preferable, but the carpet burn would be so worth it."

"Just be glad there are no cameras in here," Chuck said, as she leaned in to kiss him again. Just as their lips met there was a loud, incessant buzzing from the telephone mounted on the wall. "Agent Carmichael?" came the voice of the receptionist, "I have a General Beckman on the line for Agent Walker, the register says she's with you?"

Chuck groaned as he felt Sarah get up and reach over to the phone, "yes, I'm here," she sighed into the grill, "put Beckman on."

"Agent Walker?" Beckman's voice came out from the phone, "are you secure?"

"Just me and Chuck here ma'am"

"Okay, good. We have analysed the electro-magnetic pulse device that you brought back from your last mission, and intelligence is pointing towards a factory in Moscow. I need you to go out there now for initial reconnaissance before we formulate a strategy."

"Yes ma'am," Sarah sighed. She had just come back to Washington after a month long series of missions tracking these EMPs halfway around the world, and now, more than anything, she wanted to spend some time with Chuck, "will I be receiving any backup on this mission?"

"Colonel Casey will be meeting you at the airport in one hour."

The phone clicked as Beckman disconnected the line, and Chuck stood up from his chair and sighed, turning to face Sarah. "Sorry," she said, smiling weakly at him.

"It's okay," he replied, sighing heavily.

Sarah smiled and hugged him, pressing a kiss on his lips. "I promise, when I get back, the first thing I will do is take some of my time off and we can spend a couple of weeks, just you and me."

"Okay," Chuck said, plastering a smile over his face and trying to cover up that that was not what was really bothering him.

"This one shouldn't take too long anyway. Besides, I've got Casey there to look after me."

"Ha. Like you need anyone to look after you," Chuck joked half-heartedly, "come on, I'll drive you to the airport."

**|CHUCK|**

"_I miss Chuck,_" Sarah thought glumly as she sat in the back of the surveillance van for the fifth hour that day. She had arrived in Russia two days ago with Casey—who was currently sitting in the front of the van, watching the target with pair of high power binoculars—and spent the rest of that day in her hotel room trudging through the stacks of files Beckman had faxed to her. Now she was sitting here, in a Moscow side street, watching a large factory where the EMPs had been traced to for the second consecutive day, all so that they could find some sort of low security window in the patrols where they might be able to slip in and plant some bugs tomorrow.

"There goes the guard," Casey grunted from the front, "same time as yesterday. Looks like we've got our window."

Sarah nodded in agreement, "Yep. I say we head back to base and prep for tomorrow." In truth, she just needed to sleep. They had been watching the place for almost forty hours straight and she was shattered. Besides, she wanted to call Chuck anyway.

"Alright, let's pack up and head back," Casey said, before starting the engine and pulling away from the towering red and white chimneys of the building.

It did not take Sarah long to notice the small blue sedan trailing three cars behind them that would, had it not been following them for five minutes, have been completely inconspicuous. It slipped onto the road as they were passing Moscow's brand new business park; currently consisting of one completed skyscraper: A towering pair of glass fronted buildings, with a large 'V' logo emblazoned in stained glass across the top. The point that the car had been following them was, however, disturbing. It meant that at the very least the mysterious EMP suppliers suspected them, and probably knew that they had been watching the building for two days. "Casey."

"Yea, I see them. Blue sedan, three back."

"Do you think we've been blown?"

"Possibly. Abort?"

"Don't go back to the hotel. Take the next exit onto that freeway and circle round, see if can lose them."

Casey obliged, swinging the van across three lanes of traffic and onto a slip road. "I'll take this one, head east. Should be able join back up with the industrial ring ro—"

"Casey!" his head snapped back, wondering why Sarah had interrupted him, "we're boxed in!" Sarah had just noticed it; the four white vans now surrounding them must have moved in whilst she was talking to Casey. As she was silently cursing herself for not paying more attention, she saw a shadowy figure through the blackened windows of one of the vans. "Gun!"

Casey swerved through a small gap between the van in front and the van to the right. Glass scattered everywhere as bullets thudded into the white CIA surveillance van, creating a spider web on the back window as they embedded themselves in the bullet proof glass.

"We need to lose them Casey!"

"What do you think I'm trying to do?"

"I'm getting my toys out." Sarah called back, pulling out the most enormous weapon; an M249 light machine gun, otherwise known as 'the SAW'.

"What they hell are you doing Walker? We can't go live here!" replied Casey, for once not jumping at the opportunity to blow something up.

"How exactly do you plan on getting out then?" As if to prove Sarah's point, there was a thud and a bang as one the tyres caught a bullet, and exploded all across the road.

"Damn' it!" yelled Casey, as the van swerved out of control, "Of all the things to not have installed!" he continued, lamenting the lack of run-on-flat tyres, "Get your gun out Walker. And get me mine."

Before Sarah could grab the huge Gatling machine gun, loaded with a three metre chain of incendiary rounds, out, the blue sedan pulled up beside them. Three men jumped out from it and pointed grenade launchers at the window. There was a smash as gas canisters tore through the van, releasing white fumes as they went.

"Gas!" yelled Casey.

"I'm activating the beacon. It'll alert Chuck."

Before Casey had time to comment on the 'breaking of protocol', that this was a black op no one should know of, he was out cold. Sarah saw blinking visions of men in balaclavas jumping into the van before her world also went black.


	2. Chuck vs the Desk Chapter 2

**Chuck vs. the Desk—Chapter 2**

**So the last chapter was fairly fluffy, now for some action! Again, I'm a complete beginner at this, and action scenes are hard, so please review. Thanks :).**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Chuck was sitting in his chair. In his office. He was doing a lot of this lately; that is, when he was not ordering tests performed on himself to figure out how the thing in his head actually worked. This was his new job; to figure out how it worked, and it was incredibly tedious. It would be fun, he mused, when he finally figured it out and began the process of developing a new model to upload into other agents: his other (super super top secret) job. Currently, however, he was sitting in his corner of Langley, where the desk would have been if he could find one to fit his office: Large, slightly pompous, overbearing. It was the kind of office that had oil paintings of wars hanging on the walls and large leather seats. He had already ordered the oil paintings be replaced with computer monitors. He kept the seats.

As far as his job was concerned, he had hit a wall. Knowing that the Intersect affected neural pathways was one thing; understanding _how_ it affected these pathways was a completely different matter. His team of neurologists had been assigned this particular task, and they had said (not knowing who the human Intersect actually was: "_damn' CIA/NSA security_") that they needed brain scans of flashes. Chuck knew, now that he had had to order three sets of tests on 'Patient INT-4', that they were getting nowhere. He needed his Dad. Now his Dad was… gone… his research would be the next best thing. That brought him back to now. Sitting at his chair with a keyboard on his lap, looking across the room at a monitor that replaced a large painting of some Civil War battle—possibly the Battle of Five Forks. More precisely, he was looking at the CIA research files of "Codename Orion" from around the time the original Intersect was being developed. He was finding nothing; it seemed his father had been as thorough in erasing his existence as he had been in erasing his involvement in the Intersect project. It was almost as if he was ashamed of it.

As he leaned in to continue the search—maybe "Project Omaha" would yield something—he suddenly noticed a dull bleeping noise emanating from nowhere in particular. Glancing across at the phone on the wall, he noted with surprise, and alarm, that it was not making the noise. That was bad. Things in Langley do not just beep. A thousand hideous scenarios stormed into his head all at once, "_gas? Anthrax? Oh god! There must be a plane heading straight for us!_" his mind screamed at him as he ran across the room, grabbing his jacket, and headed for the door. Then he realised where it was coming from, and his heart sank. His CIA emergency pager was something he usually left in his jacket; now that he was no longer a field agent he did not particularly see the need for it, but since it was bleeping… "_Please don't be Sarah. Please don't be Sarah…_" There was a dull thud as it hit the carpet, leaving Chuck's hands exactly where they were clutching the device seconds before.

"CIA Special Agent Sarah Walker - Emergency in field - Homing beacon active" read the LCD display.

**|CHUCK|**

Sarah winced as she woke up, thinking that maybe the feeling returning to her legs was not the best thing in the world, feeling the cold, sharp metal of shackles bite into her ankles. As her spy skills kicked back in, she began to take in details of the room she was in. "_Large_" and "_concrete_" were the first two words that popped into her head: the room was a big, with grey concrete walls. Directly opposite her was a door, and on the wall next to it 'SB-7' was printed in black. "_Great,_" she thought glumly, "_if they ever find the building, they'll know what room I'm in._" She tried leaning back on the seat to see if she could get a better view of her prison but found she was blocked; by another chair. She snapped her head around, and instinctively relaxed when she saw Casey back-to-back with her; his head still slumped down and a small dribble of blood on his forehead.

"Casey," she said softly, nudging him with her elbow. He was up in a instant, jerking his head up and going through the same procedure Sarah had just done; all spies went to the same school after all.

"Any idea where we are?" came the grunt.

"None. Some kind of basement, sub-level 7," she added, with a nod at the wall next to the door.

They fell back into silence, each trying out different escape techniques. It was best not to say much anyway: you may let something slip, and you had no idea who was listening. She began testing her wrist shackles, if they were just loose enough she could convince Casey to break his thumbs (she preferred to keep her hands intact, for more delicate operations, like lock picking, "_and doing things to Chuck that would make him scream…_" she thought, before silently cursing herself for not being able to stop thinking of him). Wiggling her hand around a bit, she discovered that the shackles were very slightly loose; just enough to be able to get free and escape. As she turned around to tell Casey, however, there was a loud clang as the door flew open and two men strode in, smirking. "_Bastards._"

"Stop feegeting." The voice came from the thick set man, with close cropped and greying hair, laden with a heavy Russian accent.

"Damn' Russians…" muttered Casey.

"You know," continued the Russian, "ve only need vun ov you for kvestioning. Don't annoy me. I vould love nothing more than to poot a boolit in both your heads."

Casey grunted in reply, "_if you're gonna do it, do it. Commie._"

"You vere parked outside the factory for almost forty hours straight. Vhy?"

Sarah did not reply. If the guy had called them out as CIA, she would have gone with 'Name, rank, serial number', but the guy did not, so silence was the next best thing.

"Ve can just keel you straight avay. There is nothing stopping me, except my own good grace. You may as well co-operate."

Casey, again, grunted in reply. This time it was more like a snort, rather than a phrase, embedded in the noise.

"Okay, I got it. Somebody please shoot this guy?" This time he directed the order to the two other, presumably Russian, men who accompanied him. They wasted no time in cocking their guns, and aiming straight for Casey's head. Sarah blanched as she watched their fingers twitching on the triggers, and she felt a strange combination of sickness and despair rising up her chest. There was a bang, and her eyes snapped shut, not wanting to open and see the horror. But then she noticed, the bang was not a gunshot. Someone had opened the door. She managed to pull her eye lids apart again, and saw that another man—this time dressed in a full business suit—had hurried in and was whispering worriedly to the greying Russian. Managing to catch the word "CIA," followed by a hurried glance at Casey and her, she groaned inwardly. On the one hand, them knowing she was CIA would make the interrogation much easier, but it would undoubtedly mean they would be placed in more secure 'accommodation', making escape harder.

Her new cell was much, much, more secure than the old warehouse she was stashed in with Casey before. Sarah looked around the room for the third time, trying to find any kind of weakness she might be able to exploit, but it was proving to be futile. The cell was essentially a solid block of reinforced concrete, with no seams or cracks whatsoever. It was like they had simply created a mould, and then poured concrete into it. Worse still, she still had no idea _where_ she was; there were no windows in the cell—just a single solid, electrically operated, door. She could be at the top of a skyscraper, underground, or in the middle of the ocean. Her captors could have flown her halfway round the world for all she knew. She did not even know if Casey was still with her, or somewhere completely different. The one thing she was grateful for, was that they had not made her change. That meant the small tracking beacon embedded in her clothes was still there, hopefully leading Chuck straight to her.

At least, she thought, know that they knew she was CIA, they seemed less inclined to kill her. The interrogations were also proving far easier to manipulate now. It struck her as odd (it always had) that people seemed to let their guard down once they knew what they were dealing with. Even if what they were dealing with was trained to kill them in several hundred ways, and was trained by some of the most skilled manipulators in the world. As she sighed, and began yet another futile sweep of the cell, she noticed that the small LED indicator light next to the door was flashing. It was flashing in a pattern. A pattern of long and short flashes.

"· · · · · · · · — · · · — · — · · · · · · · — — · — · — · — · — · · ·"

Morse code. Someone was using Morse code to communicate with her. Frantically she tried to decode it, delving into the depths of her memory from basic training. After a few desperate moments she got to the third word. "Chuck." Chuck had found her! She grinned stupidly for a second, before schooling her expression into smug emotionless pride as the door to her cell slid open. All the guards saw was a flash of blonde, and a fist.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck smiled with pride as he watched the two guards posted outside Sarah's cell drop like flies, expressions of awestruck disbelief still etched on their faces. Noticing the small monitor that was positioned opposite her cell, he frantically typed out a message. English was much easier to use than Morse code.

"It's Chuck. I've got full control over their systems. I can see you through the cameras (have I mentioned how hot you look when you're angry? ;) ). Casey in the cell next to yours. I'll guide you to the exit with the ceiling lights."

It had taken him a while to get into their internal system and gain complete control. Finding her had been fairly straightforward, and in any case she was still in the same building she was watching with Casey. However, hacking into their system was another matter. They had layers upon layers upon layers of security and firewalls, and every time he made a mistake the whole system bounced him out. What surprised him most about the security, however, was that it was not centred on the factory where the physical things needing protection were. Its IP address was heavily masked, but it seemed to indicate a separate location, in the vicinity of the new business park. It was something he would bring up in the debrief, he thought, as he mindlessly unlocked Casey's cell door.

**|CHUCK|**

Sarah pulled a stunned Casey out of his cell, and pressed an assault rifle (taken from one of the guards) into his hands, before picking up her own. "Chuck," was all she said, with a smug grin on her face that said what she did not: "_I told you so._" The lights on the ceiling of the corridor flashed twice, leading Sarah's eyes to the door at the end of the corridor, above which a light continued to flash steadily. She raised her arm to the side of her head and flicked her hand forward twice, signalling that Casey should follow. Casey followed unquestioningly, his gun at the ready, trained at the door, as they walked steadily forward. She swung the door open, and Casey gun cracked almost instantly from over her shoulder. Two guards went down before they even knew what hit them. This corridor had a small side corridor joining onto it about halfway down, to the right, and the light above it was flashing. At the end of the side corridor was a lift, with the doors already open, and a screen just next to it on the wall.

"It's Chuck. Get in the lift. There are speakers there. I can speak to you."

The second Sarah and Casey stepped into the lift the doors slid shut and the lift began to move swiftly up.

"Hi Sarah!" Chuck's voice came out over the speaker, it was a reassuring sound to Sarah's ears; "_like a guardian angel,_" she thought. "I can hear you too, there's a camera with a microphone in there."

"Chuck!" Sarah managed to choke out, her eyes welling slightly, whilst Casey grunted his appreciation.

"Grunt number ten Casey? You're very welcome." he joked, "Okay. When you get to the top, the room is full of guards. Once you've dealt with them, head straight out of the front doors, turn right and exit the gates. There's a car waiting."

"How many men?" asked Casey.

"Only seven. You'll be fine." Chuck paused for a second before announcing, "We're here. Ready?" Sarah and Casey nodded quickly, "Okay, be awesome," he said as the doors of the lift slid open.

There was maybe half a second after the doors opened where everyone just looked at each other. The time seemed to stretch out into a minute, before Casey's gun suddenly rang out from behind Sarah, dropping two men. Sarah and Casey dived into opposite corners of the lift, taking cover from the return fire from the five remaining guards.

"I've got sights on two," yelled Sarah over the sound of the buckling metal of the lift doors.

"I've got two as well," Casey yelled back.

Sarah raised her hand and counted down, "_three. two. one._" More shots rang out, and three guards dropped, clutching various parts of their anatomy.

"Hoo-ah," grunted Casey, "four-one Walker, you're losing your touch!"

"If I had my knives…" muttered Sarah, "I've got the last two," she said, as two shots cracked out of her gun and thudded into their respective targets. "Move."

They wasted no time getting out through the door at the end of the corridor, which turned out to be some sort of fire exit, and out back in the open. Casey signalled to the right, pointing out the gates, and they ran. Sarah heard shouts from behind them, and an alarm began to blare. "Get out through the gates, now Casey!" she yelled. Chased by a klaxon, and armed guards, they ran out of the entirely opaque steel gates, and out onto the road. The moment they exited they were greeted by three suited men, armed with SIGs.

"Agent Walker? Colonel?" one of them inquired, eyeing the AN-94 Russian Army assault rifles they were carrying.

Sarah nodded, eyeing them with equal suspicion, not lowering her weapon. If these people were not friendly, and they knew who she was…

The man visibly sighed, and motioned that the other two lower there weapons, holstering his own. "Thank god. Special Agent Carmichael sent us to pick you up. Agent Winters, Diplomatic Security Service," he said, holding out his hand. "We're here to take you back to the Embassy."

**|CHUCK|**

"_Beckman looks a lot smaller in person,_" thought Chuck, as he sat at the debriefing table with Casey and Sarah. The General was standing opposite them, looking decidedly small next to the larger CIA Director.

"So, you believe that the people who captured two of my best Agents," Beckman said the words with enough venom that the unsaid "_how the hell did you two get yourselves captured,_" did not need to be said, "are based in Moscow. Near the business park?"

"Yes ma'am," Chuck replied. He had just given them his analysis of the computer systems he had hacked into in order to free Sarah and Casey, "from what I can tell from my analysis of the data."

"Very well. I will have some of my people at the NSA take a look at the data too. We cannot afford to make rash decisions. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Sarah, speaking for only the second time during the debriefing, "Chuck proved invaluable to us in the field today. I think it would be an excellent expansion of the team if Chuck rejoined us, albeit as remote support."

Chuck looked up in surprise, "_how did she know?_" he thought, as Beckman frowned, and nodded.

"Yes. I do believe Chuck would be extremely valuable, were he to provide remote assistance. What do you think, Director?"

"Chuck will, of course, have to continue his current job in addition to attending all team briefings and debriefings."

Chuck nodded, and smiled, "Yes. I'd love to assist the team," he said, grinning now, "I will continue my current job as normal, and if Sarah or Casey require assistance, I will provide it."

The second they entered his office, Chuck pulled Sarah into a long hug.

"How did you know?" he asked her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"Something was bothering you. I know that if I were in your position, that's what would be bothering me."

"You are amazing." he said, kissing her on the lips, "Now. You promised me some time off?"

Sarah grinned, and looked around Chuck's newly redecorated office. All the paintings had been replaced with computer monitors showing various databases, and news streams. The overbearing furniture was gone, and replaced with simpler chairs and a sofa. It all suited Chuck much better. But, most importantly… "Well. You do have a desk now." Sarah said seductively, winking and grinning simultaneously.

_~"Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?" ―Ian Wallace~_

**So, there you have it. Episode 1 is over, and I hoped you enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it. Episode 2 will probably be up next week, but I may release a sneak peak a bit earlier. Thank you all, and please review!**

**P.S. I changed the name to "Best Laid Plans," if you know the poem I hope you know why I chose it, and I hope you like it :).**

Next time on Best Laid Plans:  
>Chuck and Sarah travel to England and meet up with an old friend, but can they help avert a disaster aimed right at the heart of the British Secret Intelligence Service?<p> 


	3. Chuck vs the Third Omaha Chapter 1

**Chuck vs. the Third Omaha—Chapter 1**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Chuck braced himself for the oncoming flash, and hovered the mouse over the file, half excited, half terrified about what he might find (the last time he did this all that came up was a photo of a corpse). He did not, however, expect nothing do happen. Which is what happened. Nothing. He glanced up at the monitor on the wall and, frowning at the sea of black bars, transferred the file onto his desk screen for a closer look. To say he was disappointed at the outcome would be an understatement. To him, the past week of searching for leads on the structure of the Intersect had been like wandering around in the desert; and this was like finding an oasis with nothing in it. Looking more closely at the file, which was now residing on his desktop monitor, he scrolled up to look at the cover page, and his frown deepened. There was no indication of what organization had redacted the file; in fact, there was a large black box cover what he presumed was the seal of whatever agency had created the file. Still frowning, and mildly considering at the back of his mind that this was probably not good for him, he leaned across to the phone, still on the wall, and called the Director.

"Agent Carmichael?"

"Yes, Director," he began, "I've stumbled on a file pertaining to Project Omaha, however it is entirely redacted, I thought I had full clearance?"

"You do. There should be nothing in the database that you cannot access. What agency redacted the file?"

"I can't tell, the seal is redacted."

"That is," the Director paused, and Chuck could sense his tension even from the other side of the floor, "disturbing. Leave it with me, I'll see if I can get you that file."

"Thank you, Director." Chuck said, before disconnecting the line and leaning back in his chair. The Director of the CIA—'Agent Williams' was the longest name he had ever been given—was a busy man, but he seemed to desperately want this new Intersect project to work; that Chuck had been given full clearance to the entire CIA/NSA database spoke to that (even disregarding the fact that, with the thing in his head, it would not have been any use trying to hide it), so Chuck had no worries about getting the unredacted file. What was intriguing, however, was why an agency had gone through such lengths to cover up its involvement in Project Omaha; it was almost as if they were ashamed.

**|CHUCK|**

The CIA Central Field Operations Center was probably one of Sarah's least favourite places in the world. It was a vast space, spanning an entire floor of the top secret wing of the headquarters in Langley, and her office was right in the middle of it. As the CIA's best field agent, she had earned herself an actual office in the CFOC, rather than the cubicles other agents got. At least this gave her some privacy, and people were not ogling her _all_ the time. Still, she was back in Washington with Chuck, taking a break from the hellish never ending mission she had been chasing round the globe. After the debacle with the EMP factory, the mysterious weapons trader had moved production elsewhere, and, following a week of getting nowhere, the General had finally given her some down time whilst, to quote Beckman, "we find out what the hell is up with this weapons dealer." As she tapped idly on her keyboard, scanning over satellite images of the factory she and Casey had just raided in Hungary, she realised how _bored_ she was. Momentarily, she cursed the CIA's ruthless over-efficient security for not letting her go and see Chuck in his office, then she remembered what had kept him (and less importantly, she thought, her) alive for the past three years. Chuck, whose official title was 'Director of Human Intelligence Technology', was located in the same wing of Langley as the CFOC, but on a different level. This meant Sarah, as a lowly field agent (even the best one in the CIA) could not get up there unless he called her, and setting up a standing order to allow her in would be too suspicious, apparently. Still, she mused, she would not give up being a field agent for a desk job. She knew it did, to a certain extent, suit Chuck better—especially now that he was back on the team—but she would hate it. Suddenly, she was woken from her thoughts by the buzzing of her intercom.

"Sarah?"

"Chuck," she said, smiling, "what's up?"

"I've found something interesting on Project Omaha, can you come up and take a look?"

"_Finally,_" Sarah thought, "_something to do._" She voiced her assent and got up, leaving her office and stepping out into the main hall of the CFOC. As she made her way to the lifts in the centre of the floor, she noticed another agent striding towards her; confident, cocky and with a smirk. "_Crap_."

"Agent Walker," he drawled out, as Sarah realised who he was. Agent Sanders, another field agent and massive pain in the arse, "it is _wonderful _to see you back at Langley."

"What do you want, Agent Sanders?" Sarah sighed the words out, she was not in the mood for this idiot and his pathetic attempts at trying to get her naked.

"Just wondering where you were rushing off to. I thought we could have some coffee, catch up." By the way he said the last sentence with a suggestive hint to his voice, he clearly had more than just talking in mind.

"I have a meeting with Director Carmichael. And the last thing I'd ever want to do is 'catch up' with you." Sarah managed to time her rejection perfectly with the lift arriving, and she wasted no time in striding into it, leaving a pathetically stunned Agent Sanders behind. She smirked once she was out of sight; it was not often she dropped Chuck's new title, but when she did it usually got people out of her way. Everyone knew about the mysterious new Director who was promoted from the Field Office after single handedly uncovering a mole, but no one had ever seen him. He was to the CFOC as Sarah was to the analysts of the low security wing: something of a legend.

The corridor leading to Chuck's office was very similar to how Chuck's office looked when he first arrived; with plush red carpets and oak panelling on the walls. As Sarah pushed open the heavy wooden door into Chuck's office, she noted how little the setting suited him, before being engulfed by Chuck. "Mmm… you're going to have to invite me up here more often," she said, before pulling back and looking more seriously at him, "so, what do you want me to look at?"

Sarah leaned in to inspect the file on his computer, frowning when she saw how completely redacted it was. "Have you spoken to the Director?" she said after a while.

"Yea, he said he'd get back to me. Still. I wanted a second opinion."

"Well, whatever agency did this clearly wanted not only to cover up what it did, but their entire involvement. What could have gone so badly wrong that they felt they had to do this?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking…"

Sarah carried on standing next to Chuck's seat, and he looked at her for a while.

"Hey," said Chuck, looking over at her in concern, "what's up?"

"Am I that easy to read now?" Sarah replied jokingly.

"Only to me," Chuck smiled back, before pulling her down into his lap and kissing her, "what's up?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Sarah." Chuck replied with a warning tone in his voice that would have landed anyone else in hospital.

"It's just. Well." She stopped and took a breath before rushing out, "doesitbotheryouthatIhaven'tunpacked?"

"Does it bother me? That you haven't unpacked?"

Sarah nodded and blushed gently, before leaning onto Chuck's shoulder.

"No. Why would it bother me Sarah? It's not weird; you're always going away on missions and things. There wouldn't be much point in you unpacking anyway."

**|CHUCK|**

"It's totally weird, right?"

"So weird."

"It's almost as if she'd rather be on a mission than at our apartment with me."

"It's the Achilles' Heel, Chuck."

"The what?"

"Every relationship has one. The single thing that can't be overcome; you have to live with it, or your relationship will unravel."

"Morgan."

"Yea Chuck?"

"Don't be ridiculous." It felt weird to Chuck, talking to Morgan over the phone from the other side of the country. He was used to Morgan always being there (literally, _always_, even when he did not really want Morgan to be there. Like this one time, with Sarah…), and even if his advice was almost always useless—unless it was food related—he felt odd without the bearded fellow tagging along behind him. It had been almost two months since he had last seen Morgan, and Ellie or Awesome for that matter, "_I really ought to visit them…_" he thought, as Morgan babbled on about some new game that was being released, and something else and something else and…

"Chuck!" Chuck came back to reality with a start, "What's that buzzing? Is it the phone?"

"Huh," Chuck looked around his room and saw the source of the noise: his intercom "_Shit._ Morgan, I have to call you back."

"Okay, whatever dude, duty calls et cetera. Just remember what I said!"

"Nice of you to finally answer the intercom Agent Carmichael."

"I'm sorry Director, I was on the phone to an old friend."

"I have news about that file you sent me. The agency that redacted it was the British Secret Intelligence Service."

"What, like MI6?"

"Technically they are the SIS, but yes. Congratulations Chuck, you're going to England."

Chuck stilled for a second, getting more excited by the millisecond. He was going to go to England, and meet real James Bonds! Then he remembered what the General had said when he first got his 'promotion'.

"I thought I wasn't allowed out on missions?"

"This is different, this is not a covert mission. It's a fully sanctioned intelligence transfer, in a friendly country. Besides, Agent Walker will be accompanying you."

"Sarah's coming?"

"Well, I haven't informed her yet, but she does seem a little bored, what with the weapons trading leads drying up as we run after them. I thought you could tell her yourself."


	4. Chuck vs the Third Omaha Chapter 2

**Chuck vs. the Third Omaha—Chapter 2**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Sarah glanced down at her suitcase stuffed into her side of the wardrobe in their bedroom and sighed. She should probably be happy that she was all packed and ready to go, and in the past she would have been, but right now all she could think about was how Chuck felt that she could not bring herself to unpack in their own apartment. "_It's not even like it's his apartment I'm moving into,_" she thought, "_it's my apartment _he's _moving into. I can't even bring myself to unpack in my own house!_"

"Chuck, I'm all packed," she said somewhat glumly. If he noticed, which he must have (he always notices), he ignored it.

"Okay, I'll be right out."

She looked over at her apartment as she picked up her suitcase. Even though she had owned the place since she was a child—the CIA had bought it for her when they recruited her—she had never actually lived here, let alone looked at it. She remembered the longest time she had ever spent in the apartment was after—well, it was just before she met Chuck, she had just received a promotion, and… Anyway, she was happy now, with Chuck, and finally had a chance to look around the place. It was surprisingly large for an apartment in Washington, taking up one entire floor of the building; she had no idea why the CIA paid for such a large place for her, especially since this was her personal safe house: she never used it for missions, let alone brought a mark here. It was essentially open plan and modern, with granite kitchen tops and metal-wood combinations on most of the furniture. There was one bedroom (something which she pointed out to Chuck very early on, and made constant use of) directly opposite the main entrance to the place. It was also on the top floor, allowing her to easily keep an eye out on the street below, with the outside staircase at the back giving her an easy escape route should she ever need one. She smiled as she passed Chuck's TRON poster (she _really_ needed to watch that movie) taking pride of place just to the left of the bedroom door, and her own photo of him and her on the kitchen top. She always kept a copy of the photo in her bag; it made her feel safe, even when she was on the other side of the world.

"Hey, ready to go?"

"Yep," Sarah replied automatically, shaking herself out of her thoughts, "what's that for?" she added, noticing the small black thing in his hand, with 'PSP' written on the back in silvered text.

"Oh, this? It's a seven hour flight; I'm going to need something to do. We can't all just drop off to sleep on command," he retorted, chuckling.

"I wasn't planning on sleeping," Sarah said, leaning in and whispering hotly into his ear, "and I'm sure you can put those hands to _much_ better use." She smirked when she heard the PSP clatter to the floor, and kissed him lightly on the lips before walking down the stairs just in front of him, so he could get a good look.

**|CHUCK|**

The CIA had many different types of aircraft: big Boeing 747s, small unmarked Learjets, even planes that could land on water. However, on particularly sensitive missions, such as this one now, using a chartered flight was not really on option; chartered flights drew attention, and if you were travelling to and, later, from England, transporting information on one of the world's most dangerous intelligence assets, attention was not something you wanted. So, for these situations, the CIA placed agents on specially modified American Airlines flights. These flights were, in most respects, normal passenger flights: they had normal passengers on board, they had a normal flight crew, and they were given no special treatment by air traffic control. One important difference, however, was the complete lack of first class seating on these flights. Of course, if anyone checked, they would find the usual booking of about ten percent of first class seats taken; but in reality, the whole of the first class section had been replaced by a completely private, fully operational, CIA field office. And complete privacy was something Chuck and Sarah had just made full use of.

"So," Chuck chuckled to Sarah, who was draped over him on the full size double bed, "when do I get my card?"

Sarah faced him and frowned, "card?"

"All clubs have membership cards, I'm sure the mile high has one too," he deadpanned.

"Well, I'm sure they'll want to see proof before they send us membership cards."

She said it so seriously that Chuck almost believed her, for a second. "Well, on second thoughts… maybe I can do without a card," and with that, Sarah burst out laughing.

"Attention all passengers, please stow your trays and place your seats in an upright position ready for landing." Chuck and Sarah waited on the bed for a second, before, "Agents Buxter and Jackson, we will be landing in approximately fifteen minutes. Please be in a safe position by that time. Thank you." The final part of the announcement was made directly by the pilots to them. Of course, the pilots did not know who Agents Buxter and Jackson actually were; as far as they were concerned they were people who 'worked for the government'.

"Walker suits you better, Agent Jackson," Chuck said, smiling as they took their seats in front of the flat screen TV at the end of the room, opposite they bed.

**|CHUCK|**

"_Attention. This is a security announcement. Please do not leave items unattended in the airport. All unattended items will be removed and may be destroyed by the security services."_

The announcements were the first sounds of England Chuck heard as he stepped off the plane, following Sarah who was just ahead of him. They punctuated the atmosphere every few minutes, and were backed up by the sight of police in black bullet proof vests and peaked black police caps carrying automatic rifles. He made his way past the glass panelled walls of the terminal, passing harassed looking mothers and fathers carrying children and tense business men clutching their Blackberries as if they were the most important thing in the entire world, idly being dragged along by moving sidewalks. There was really nothing for him to be stressed about; he knew him and Sarah had already been scanned and X-rayed more times than they could count, that the security services at the airport had seen every knife on Sarah's body, every gun in her backpack, and the tranq gun stowed in Chuck's waistband. He also knew the security services knew they were American agents; otherwise they would have been arrested or shot by now. Finally, they approached the border control; lines of stressed out, anxious people waiting in a giant room, with the line of blue cubicles at one side housing the most important people in the world to those waiting in the room.

"Here you go," Sarah smiled confidently, handing their brown passports emblazoned with the American eagle over to the UK Border Agency official at the immigration desk. A glimmer of interest flicked across his otherwise bored face when he saw the words 'OFFICIAL PASSPORT' written across the top. He smiled back at Sarah ("_they're not as uptight here, I guess,_" Chuck thought) as he took their passports from her, before a 'glimmer of interest' switched to shock when he scanned in their passports and their details came up, complete with CIA insignia and partial redaction. Soon slight realisation set in and he motioned to two men in dressed in black suits and dark glasses standing behind the row of counters; clearly the UKBA had been briefed to expect someone from the CIA. The two men hurried forward, and flashed two badges so quickly Chuck could not see where they were from, before snapping a quick salute. Chuck frowned as a wave of muttering spread through the crowd behind them, "why—"

"Not now, Chuck," Sarah hissed, before following the two men away from the immigration desk and down the hallway.

"You're bags have already been collected, Agents," one of the men said, turning back to look at Sarah, "they're in the car." Sarah nodded in reply, as the two agents lead them through baggage claim and customs. They flashed whatever badges they were carrying at regular intervals, causing many wide eyes and nervous nodding from the staff, before they lead Chuck and Sarah out through some sort of airlock, and a large pair of metal bulkheads that separated the check-in side of the airport from the airside departures and arrivals.

"I apologise for the rush," the taller agent said (he was not really taller by more than an inch or so, but Chuck needed some way to distinguish them) once they were in the black Jaguar that had been parked just outside the terminal entrance, "we didn't really want to give away too many names out there in public. I'm Agent Michaels, MI5 and this is Agent Wilson, also MI5. We're sorry we couldn't come to the airside to pick you up, but we're not technically allowed on the other side of the red line while on duty."

"Red line?" Chuck queried.

"The border," chuckled the other agent, Agent Wilson, "we're MI5. Internal affairs only; like your FBI or Homeland Security or whatever."

"And the salute?" Sarah asked, before Chuck could get in and fire off a series of questions about MI5 and James Bond and god knows what else.

"We couldn't have people think we were arresting you, could we?" Agent Michaels laughed, turning around to face Sarah.

"So are we heading to MI5 now then?"

"No, we're supposed to drop you off at Vauxhall Cross," Wilson replied, "the SIS headquarters," he continued mistaking Chuck's 'sour lemon' flash face for puzzlement.

The rest of the journey passed in relative silence, as Chuck marvelled at the scenes of England and Sarah attempted to maintain an air of professionalism (something which did not come easily when she was in a confined space with Chuck for, well, any length of time really); they passed Hyde park, and when they drove through the museums district Chuck tugged on Sarah's sleeve, "we should _so_come back to see the Natural History Museum, they have this huge dinosaur in the foyer…" until they finally crossed Vauxhall Bridge and Vauxhall Cross, the home of the Secret Intelligence Service, appeared; its sandy coloured walls, blackened glass and magnificent tiered structure dominating the opposite river bank. The MI5 agents pulled up to the main entrance way to the building, and stopped the car. "I'm afraid this is where we leave you, Agents. We don't have clearance to enter that place," Michael said, before stepping out and opening the door for Sarah whilst eyeing the Metropolitan Police officer, wearing his round custodian helmet and long black overcoat, watching them from next to the HQ.

As they entered the building, two guards swiftly intercepted them and swept them towards the reception. "CIA Special Agents Walker and Carmichael," Sarah said swiftly and proudly, handing over their badges and subtly reminding Chuck that their 'Buxter and Johnson' cover was only for outside; everyone in the SIS was cleared to know who they were. The receptionist, hidden behind a floor-to-ceiling plane of what Chuck presumed was reinforced bullet proof glass, tapped on her keyboard and paused for a second when their profiles came through. She motioned to the guard, before speaking into a microphone which piped her voice out through speakers on the other side of the glass, "take them straight upstairs, they don't need to be screened or scanned." The guard's heels clicked on the marble floor as he lead them past the modern wood and glass reception desk and through the row of metal detectors, CCTV cameras and armed guards separating the entrance foyer from the rest of building. He then directed them up the impressive central stairway which faced the main entrance doors, complete with a plush red carpet draped over marble steps and brass handrails, leading up to the next floor. "An SIS operative will be waiting for you at the top," he said, before briskly returning to his post by the gilded main doors. Chuck gestured up the stairs, "ladies first, don't drop your glass shoes," he said, smiling gently.

"Cinderella?"

"So my campaign to improve your general knowledge _is_ working then?"

Sarah chuckled in reply, and wished that the camera she could see out of the corner of her eye, just above the center of the staircase on the ceiling, was not there; that way she could have kissed him senseless.

"Well, well, well. Look who it is," the rough British accent carried down the stairs, "when I was sent to greet the American agents, I was not expecting the one who turned me down for the nerd." Chuck's eyes widened slightly at that last revelation, and Sarah replied by smiling and nodding slightly, before giving his hand a quick squeeze. Cole Barker did not miss that last action.

"Ah, so I see the will-they won't-they has been resolved?" Sarah simply beamed as she walked up the stairs, not caring that her relationship with Chuck was that obvious to everyone—even though she probably should—and ignoring the nagging voice at the back of her head, "_it's so obvious to everyone you were meant to be together, why can't you even bring yourself to move in with him properly?_"

"Still Walker and Carmichael?" Cole asked once they had reached to top of the stairs and passed through the steel security door separating the landing from the rest of the first floor.

"Yes, Agent…" Sarah ventured.

"Barker, still Cole Barker," he replied with a smile, "haven't had to fake my death yet."

They followed Cole along the corridor; which looked far more functional than the ornate entrance, with plain wooden doors and polished hard wood floors replacing gilded glass frames and marble; into his office. "So, you're here about Project Omaha?" he said, switching off a BBC news report about the STUXNET virus. Chuck flashed. "Still got that thing in your head then, eh?"

Wincing, Chuck replied, "Yea, haha. You know, the STUXNET was never going to work?"

"Yea, I just got the report. It wasn't supposed to anyway. It was meant to scare them."

"How did we get onto this?" Sarah asked, before Chuck could get into a full debate with Cole over some random computer thing.

"Oh, yes. As I was saying," Cole continued, "C is going to talk to you about the file you requested. Must be important, for him to speak to you in person."

"We don't know yet," Sarah replied, "that's why we're here."

"Umm. Sorry. Who's C?"

"Oh, sorry. C is the head of the SIS; like your Director."

"Why 'C'?" Chuck interjected.

"Something about the first head's name beginning with a C. Or something."

"Agent Carmichael. Please sit down." C, whatever his real name was, was a tall, thin man with brown hair and glasses who seemed to fill his office (even though he himself was entirely devoid of emotion); which was back to the ornateness of the ground floor. "The CIA wants us to provide them with an unredacted version of this file," he continued in his clipped British accent, pushing the paper copy of the redacted file Chuck had seen on his computer in Washington towards them, "why?"

"It is related to Project Omaha," Chuck began, before pausing to gauge the man's reaction. He simply nodded. "The CIA is looking into redeveloping the project, and the data in this file could be extremely helpful. This is the final, third member of the original Project Omaha."

"This file was redacted for a reason, Agent Carmichael."

"I am sure it was, but can you tell me why?"

"No. The originals were sealed by my predecessor, I have no idea why he went through such great lengths to cover this up," C replied, with what Chuck believed was a slight hint of curiosity in his voice.

"Why don't we find out then?" Chuck asked simply.

"No," C said, after a few seconds, "I'm sorry Agent Carmichael, that file was sealed for a reason, and will remain sealed until it is declassified in around two centuries from now."

Chuck sighed. This was not what he was hoping for, "The CIA," he began, clutching at straws now.

"The CIA will have to do without them," C interrupted before Chuck could formulate a sentence. Chuck sighed; he was going to have trouble convincing this man.

**|CHUCK|**

"So how long have you two been 'official,'" Cole asked, as he sat opposite Sarah in his office. Only Chuck had been allowed in the meeting with C, and Sarah was feeling a little uneasy at the prospect of letting him out of her sight for more than a second.

"Um, about a year now."

"So, that would be," he paused as if calculating something, "Wow. It took you that long?"

"Some stuff came up," Sarah replied nonchalantly. Going into what happened at Prague, and then the terrible choices she made following that, with Cole was not something she wanted to do.

"Like what," he asked, clearly not getting the hint.

"I really don't want to talk about it Cole," she replied, a little more forcefully. This time he got the hint.

"Okay," he began, before a green light pinged on his desk, "looks like Chuck is done," he said, getting up and holding the door open for Sarah.

They made their way along the corridor where Cole's office was located, and up a flight of stairs. As they approached C's office the decor became steadily more and more ornate, like the ground floor; until they finally spotted Chuck hurrying towards them, half running, half walking.

"Hey, Chuck," Sarah said, greeting him with a smile and wishing she could kiss him, "how did it go?"

"Not well," he replied hurriedly before continuing, "Cole, please tell me you know that one of your janitors is a member a radical Argentinian group who wants the Falklands returned? The same group that recently acquired a large quantity of high explosive?"

_~Author's Note~_

**Please do keep reviewing, even if you have already reviewed a previous chapter or you have nothing to say beyond "good" (or "bad," but if you say bad, say why).**

**Also, I was told that I needed to describe more in a review. I have tried to do that, but if you feel it is still not enough, shout at me in a review or PM :).**


	5. Chuck vs the Third Omaha Chapter 3

**Chuck vs. the Third Omaha—Chapter 3**

**I am so very sorry for the delay, but honestly, it was incredibly hard to write this chapter, and I have no idea why. It felt like I was trying to swim through treacle: tasted wonderful, but was **_**very**_** hard work. Anyway, here it is. I hope you like it, read and review :).**

**Small content warning; it's nothing they wouldn't put in a 15, or maybe even a 12A (PG-13), but there is some gore.**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

From the look on Cole's face, flitting though shock, anger, disbelief, back to anger, before settling on what Chuck could only describe as "_what the hell?_"

"I'll take that as a no, then," he ventured cautiously.

"Where?" Sarah asked quickly, slipping into agent mode now that there was actual real danger: this had just stopped being a quick intelligence transfer.

"Just back down this corridor," Chuck replied quickly, "it opens out into a big room with a receptionist and lots of smaller side rooms. One of them is C's office, the guy was buffing the floor next to the receptionist's desk."

"Right then," Cole said, "let's go grab the bastard." With that, Cole drew out a Walther PPS from under his suit jacket and started to proceed along the corridor they had found Chuck in, towards where Chuck said he had seen the janitor-slash-terrorist. Chuck and Sarah followed suit, with Chuck falling in step behind Cole; hugging the wall and pulling out his traq gun, while Sarah brought up the rear; covering their backs with her Smith & Wesson 1911.

Soon they drew up to the end of the corridor, and crouched down by the heavy wooden doors leading into the room. "Burst in, take out the target. Shoot to incapacitate," Cole said curtly, spelling out the rules of engagement. He lifted his hand up and counted down on his fingers. On "one" he swung open the doors open. The wood of the door crunched as it hit the concrete of the wall, and Chuck run through; following Cole.

"Cole!" Chuck yelled as a gunshot rang out, frantically looking around he saw the janitor with a small revolver, and the receptionist sprawled out over the desk; a pool of blood forming around where her head slumped forwards. Three more shots rang out in quick succession, mixed in with the sound of bone crunching. The janitor dropped to the ground, screaming out, as Cole also fell clutching his left thigh. Chuck swang round, only to see three men behind him, all holding handguns, and Sarah; who was slowly placing her own gun on the floor. Chuck followed her lead, and was placing his tranq gun on the floor when one of the men spoke.

"A wise choice," he said, smirking, "we have operatives in ever corner of the building. We are in control now." As if to confirm what he was saying, several more gunshots echoed out from the hallway, and two more terrorists dragged in what Chuck presumed were two SIS agents.

**|CHUCK|**

Chief Superintendent Chris Jones had, until right now though he had seen everything he could see as a police officer. In his time with the Diplomatic Protection Group—known around Central London for its distinctive red police vehicles—he had seen men armed with little more than a few knives try to stab their way into № 10 Downing Street. He even had to deal with a hostage crisis at the French Embassy once. This, however, was new.

"I'm sorry, Director. Did you say the _Secret Intelligence Service_? As in, MI6?" he enunciated, as if to ensure he understood what he himself was saying. He had been in somewhat of a state of shock ever since his secretary had forwarded the call to him. It was not the fact that he was talking to the Director of MI5 that bothered him—he got a call from MI5 at least once a day with all the relevant security intelligence. Rather, it was that the Director had called him to say that there was a hostage situation _at the SIS headquarters_.

"Yes, Chief Superintendent," the Director sighed impatiently, "the SIS headquarters. At Vauxhall Cross."

"W- what happened? We have a guard posted at Vauxhall Cross. He hasn't reported anything amiss," he stammered.

"What happened is classified," the Director snapped, and the Chris Jones could not help but notice what might have been embarrassment; if the man was not the Director of a secret intelligence gathering organization, and was not woefully lacking in the emotions department. "The situation has not yet progressed to the ground floor, which is why your guard did not notice anything."

"Right, of course," he replied sarcastically, recovering somewhat from the initial shock, "should I activate standard hostage protocols?"

"Yes," replied the Director, "the SAS close quarter battle team is already en route from Credenhill, and an MI5 team is en route to the scene to act as liason."

He sighed. This was going to be a long day; he should have known the short single page security report was too good to be true.

"Agent Michaels, MI5 liaison," the black suited man interrupted, joining Chris Jones' conversation with the SAS commander at the mobile situation headquarters that had been set up in the entrance to Vauxhall tube station.

"Chief Superintendent Chris Jones," he replied, bracing against the strong winds that were sweeping through the station. The MI5 agent turned to the SAS commander who introduced himself as 'Wolf', before continuing with what he had been telling Ch. Supt. Jones.

"As I as saying," he continued, his gruff voice not masking any of his irritation at being interrupted. "My team is conducting initial surveillance on the premises. We need to know how many individuals in there are a threat. We need to know what they look like. When we go in, we need to be able to make split second decisions about who to kill and who to leave alive."

"We can help with that," Agent Michaels piped up, not at all deterred by Wolf's gruff demeanor and angry growl. "We have access to all of the security cameras inside the building. Everyone on the _SAS_ team is cleared to see the feeds," he finished somewhat pointedly.

"Huh, you might be useful after all," Wolf grunted in reply.

"Remember," Agent Michaels continued, ignoring Wolf's comment, and turning to Chris, "word of what has happened here cannot get out. The occurrence of this entire event is Top Secret, and the only people present with clearance are the SAS team, the negotiator, yourself and me. Have you blocked the roads?"

"Yes, there are armed patrols blocking Vauxhall Bridge, Albert Embankment, Kennington Lane and Wandsworth Road; they haven't been told why the roads are being blocked. There are also police boats preventing traffic between Chelsea Bridge and Lambeth Bridge."

"Good. Have you made contact with the terrorists yet?"

"No, we were just about to call."

**|CHUCK|**

Sarah's eyes flicked over the small room they were still being held in for what felt like the thousandth time. As she passed over the receptionist's desk, with the body of the woman still draped over it, she reached out for Chuck's hand and squeezed it. Even after seeing so much death, the sight of an innocent woman being unceremoniously shot and left to rot, still in the seat she was working in, made her feel sick to the core; holding Chuck's hand helped, as it always did. Her eyes finally settled on the man—who she presumed was the leader—standing by the phone on the wall, and nervously slicking back his black hair. As she watched him, she noticed his eyes jerking around, and his foot constantly tapping on the floor. These were all signs; this man was not just nervous, he was _scared_.

The phone suddenly rang, and the man jumped almost imperceptibly, but enough for Sarah to notice. As he picked the phone up she slid along the wall Cole, Chuck and herself were sitting against, whilst trying to avoid looking at the receptionist—whose blood was beginning to congeal and turn black—and hoping the other two terrorists, one of whom was guarding the pair of unconscious SIS agents, would not notice. She leant against Chuck's shoulder so that she could be closer to the phone and listen to at least one side of the conversation, and felt his lips brush against her ear. "Must be the police," he whispered gently. She nodded, and smiled as she felt his fingers intertwine with hers as the man answered the phone.

"H- Hello?" he stammered nervously.

"Hello," the calming voice came booming out from the phone next to the handset, deafening the silence that had been prevalent in the room for the past half an hour. The man, the leader, slammed the phone back down and shot the wall above the two SIS agents' heads twice, waking them up with a start.

"Why is the speaker phone on?" he yelled at them, jabbing at it with his gun.

"Huh, what?" one of them said wearily.

"I said. Why is the speaker phone on?"

Cole, seeming to decide that the two agents, who had just gone from unconscious to awake in a few seconds, were in no fit state to answer, replied. "During an emergency all phones are put on speaker phone, so announcements can be made more easily."

The man narrowed his eyes at Cole, before turning back to the other two SIS agents. "Can you switch it off?" he asked the blond one.

"I don't think—" Cole began, before being cut off by the leader.

"Shut up, or I will kill you," he shouted, waving his gun at Cole before turning back to the other two, "can you?"

"I don't think so," stammered he blond agent, "it's all automated."

"Then you are of no use to me," he said simply, before raising his gun and shooting the agent three times in the head and chest. Sarah felt Chuck's hand tighten around hers, and she squeezed back reassuringly, trying to fight the volcano of sick that she was currently feeling. The phone rang again, and the man picked it up again, taking deep breaths. "_Scared men do dangerous things,_" thought Sarah as he answered it.

"Hello."

"Hello again," replied the man from the other end of the line, his voice tinged with amusement, "my name is Inspector Barnes, from the Metropolitan Police. I'm calling to find out what you want in return for the safe return of the building and its occupants."

At the world 'safe', the man turned back to look at the dead SIS agent, who had been moved next to the receptionist. "We have a list of demands," he replied, with a slight waver in his voice, as if the sight of the blood pouring out from the dead SIS agent mixing with the congealed blood of the receptionist was actually affecting him. "Would you like to hear them?"

"Yes, please continue, mister…"

"Javier. My name is Javier," he replied, pulling out a small piece of paper from the pocket of his janitorial jumpsuit, and carefully unfolding it. "These are our demands…"

Sarah's eyebrows rose higher and higher up her face as Javier read out his rather long list of demands; which included the immediate return of the Falklands to Argentina, and the declassification of a plethora of various documents. There was no way they were going to allow that, or even consider it, was there?

Javier finished, and waited expectantly for the reply from the other side, and Sarah's jaw fully dropped when she heard the Inspector reply with a genial, "Very well. I will discuss it with my colleagues and get back to you."

"You have two hours before I start killing hostages, starting with the Americans." He hung up the phone and walked over to the door behind the receptionist's desk, motioning for the other two terrorists to follow him.

"If any of you try anything, she dies," he said, pointing his gun at Sarah, before disappearing through the door along with the other two.

"How's your leg," Chuck asked, turning to Cole solicitously once the men had left.

"It's fine, the bandage was pretty good, I'd be more worried about that guy though," Cole replied, jerking his head to the other SIS agent who was still slumped against the wall. "Hey, agent," Cole called out, "what's your name?"

The agent jerked his head up and looked at Cole, "SIS Agent Samuels, clearance secret SCE," he recited.

"How're you doing Agent Samuels," Cole replied, keeping his tone lighthearted, "I'm SIS Agent Barker, and these are CIA agents—"

"Buxter and Johnson," Sarah interjected, deciding not to take any chances.

Agent Samuels sat up in his seat slightly once he saw Sarah, "C- CIA? Why?"

"That's classified, top secret," Sarah replied before turning back to Cole, "what's through that door?"

"That's C's office," Chuck replied before Cole could answer.

**|CHUCK|**

"Americans!" exclaimed the Chief Superintendent the minute Inspector Barnes put the phone down.

"Yes, they've been here since the morning. I drove them down from Heathrow as a matter of fact," Agent Michaels replied nonchalantly.

"Have you contacted their people?" Chris Jones replied exasperatedly.

"Yes, the Director contacted them before he called you."

"Oh," Chris replied, now feeling slightly deflated that a couple of American spooks were more important than him.

"Agent Michaels regarded him amusedly for a moment, before turning to Wolf, who Chris presumed had just returned from a meeting with his team.

"Well?" asked Agent Michaels.

"We're good to go. We've got photos of all the hostiles. We know the layout of the building," Wolf replied telegraphically.

"Okay, has the Director informed your of your off the record orders?"

"Yes," Wolf said abruptly.

"Wait, what 'orders'?" Chris Jones questioned.

"They're 'off the record' for a reason, Chief Superintendent."

Chris Jones huffed in reply, before changing the subject, "as far as the DPG is concerned you can go whenever you want to. All the personnel that can be evacuated have been evacuated, and the occupied tier—tier one—is sealed off from the other two."

Agent Michaels narrowed his eyes at Chris, before asking where he had received that particular piece of _classified_ information with an accusatory tone.

"A little birdie told me," Chris replied, amusement dancing over his face.

Wolf watched the two of them for a second longer, before interrupting and letting out a low growl, "so are we cleared to go, or not?"

"Yes," replied Agent Michaels, schooling his expression.

"Okay then," replied Wolf, before stepping back and barking orders out into his walkie talkie.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck was first to hear the gunshots lightly echoing down the hallway, "can you hear that?" he said out loud, more to himself than anyone else.

"The SAS has arrived," said Cole in reply. "Special Forces," he added, in response to Sarah's inquisitive gaze.

"Special Forces for a hostage situation? Why not SWAT?"

Cole shrugged, "we don't really have SWAT. Sending in the SAS is standard procedure, and the police distract the terrorists while the SAS prepare—"

Cole was interrupted by a sudden gunshot from the other side of the door leading to C's office, before it swung open as second later, revealing Javier, his two henchmen, and a grim looking SIS director. Chuck craned his neck, and looking behind them, he saw the shattered and splintered remains of C's oak desk strewn across the floor of his office.

"You two stay here," Javier said, motioning to the two other terrorists, "me and the Chief have some files to collect." He finished with a sinister smile, and pushed C out into the corridor Cole, Chuck and Sarah had arrived through not two hours ago. More gunshots echoed down from the corridor as the two other terrorists took guarding positions; the SAS was getting closer, it seemed.

"We need to get C," Cole said in a harsh whisper.

"No," replied Chuck, "me and Sarah—who have not recently been shot—need to go and get C."

"Hey, shut it," one of the terrorists called out from his position next to the receptionist's desk.

Chuck looked at him with a smile for a moment, before nodding to Sarah so subtly that only she could notice. Chuck knew that with that one nod, and a brief glance at each other, she knew the plan. In a single, fluid motion, she lept up from where she was sitting, with her legs stretched out in front of her, and flew across the room in an arc, landing deftly in front of the terrorist. Before he even had time to draw a breath, he collapsed in a heap on the ground, after a swift roundhouse kick shattered both his knee caps with a spine tingling crunch. She turned to face Chuck, just as he landed a punch right on the nose of the other terrorist, before leaning down to pick up his gun.

"Where is he taking C?" Sarah asked.

"He said he wanted some files…" replied Chuck.

"The vault," finished Cole, "go out into the corridor, take the lift on the left all the way to the bottom floor."

Chuck nodded in reply, before he strode out, with Sarah tucking in just behind him.

"Javier!" Chuck said, rounding the corner of the corridor into the main SIS vault. "Where is he," he muttered to Sarah, as he looked up at the aisles upon aisles of filing shelves and cabinets making up the vault.

"Right here," Javier called out, appearing from the 'F' aisle, clutching some papers in one hand, and his gun in the other. It was pressed up against the small of C's back, who was walking steadily in front, a grim expression covering his face.

"Javier, put the gun down. It's over; the SAS will be here soon." As if to back Chuck up, the sound of automatic rifle fire reached the bottom of the stairwell and reverberated around the room.

"No!" he cried, "this man will pay for what they did. And these," he continued, waving the papers he was holding, "will prove that they committed those crimes."

"They?" questioned Sarah, who now had her gun pointed straight at Javier's jugular.

"The SIS, the CIA, everyone," he spat out.

"If you kill this man, you will not leave here alive," Chuck said, attempting to reason with him, "put the gun down, and you will have a chance to have your say in court." Chuck knew this was lie. If Javier ever came out of this alive, he would be thrown into a deep dark pit, never to be heard from again. Still, the lie seemed to be working, as Chuck noticed Javier's gun wielding hand waver slightly.

"If you die now, no one will hear what you have to say. If you live, you can tell the world," Sarah said. Javier's hand slumped, leaving C's spine, before he gently lowered it to the ground, just as Sarah did the same with hers. As soon as he placed his gun on the floor, a gun cracked out from behind Chuck, and Javier slumped to the ground, a red stain appearing on his chest. Chuck span around, his ears ringing from the close range gun fire, to see a man clad in all black, and wearing a gas mask that completely obscured his face. The man grabbed him, and passed him along to another man dressed in the same way, who shouted, "SAS, keep moving!" pushing Chuck along, with Sarah closely following as more men rushed forward, blocking Chuck's view of Javier and C.

**|CHUCK|**

"Only you two could go in for a simple intelligence exchange, and end up in a hostage situation," Beckman said, with an amused lilt to her voice. "Your negotiations were unsuccessful, Agent Bartowski?"

"Umm, yes, ma'am," Chuck replied, confused as to why she was asking.

"Hmm," Beckman frowned, "I have a meeting with him next, I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you ma'am," Chuck said, even more confused and surprised. "_Why does Beckman care about those documents? And more importantly, why does she have a meeting with C?_" he thought.

"In the meanwhile," Beckman continued, "you should both take a week off. No, Agent Walker," she continued, cutting Sarah off just as she opened her mouth, "consider it an order if you must."

Chuck hummed as he unpacked his clothes and arranged them in his side of the wardrobe. Sure, they were leaving to go to Burbank in two days, but he still felt the need to unpack anyway. His hand stilled midway through hanging up his black suit jacket, as he heard a muffled sob from behind him. He turned around and saw a flash of blonde run out of the bedroom and straight out of the front door. "_Sarah._" Dropping the jacket, he immediately ran after her, down the stairs to the ground floor of their apartment building.

"Sarah," he called, poking his head out of the entrance to the apartment building, the cold wind whipping past his face. "Sarah?" he said again, before going outside fully, her sobs leading him to find her leaning against the wall, shivering from the cold and tears running down her cheeks.

"Sarah, what's wrong?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her, and squeezing when she tried to squirm out. "No. What is wrong Sarah?"

"I'm a terrible girlfriend," she sobbed, still trying to wriggle free.

"What?" he said in disbelief, taking her head in his hands and turning it to face him. "That's ridiculous."

"There you are unpacking for just one day, and I couldn't even bring myself to unpack when I was here for a whole week," she wailed, "I didn't even want to take time off!"

"That's what you're upset about?" he asked, as she buried her head in his chest and nodded.

"How can you love me when I can't even move in with you properly?" she cried, still sobbing into his chest.

"Hey," he said, pulling her face up and and rubbing her cheek, "don't ever question that I love you. Okay?"

"But—"

"No. I love you because we are different. You will unpack when you are ready, I really don't care. All I care about is that you're here."

"So you don't hate me?" she asked, vulnerability evident in her voice.

"How could I ever hate you?" Chuck replied, hugging her tightly and gently guiding her back inside.

"Chuck?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you too," he said, leaning in to kiss her.

_~"__And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare; As any she belied with false compare." ―Sonnet 130, William Shakespeare~_

**It may interest you to know that while I was writing this episode I visited the Smith & Wesson and Walther websites, before looking at how to get to the SIS HQ from Heathrow on Google Maps. I followed this up by downloading the unclassified version of the CESG's guidelines on Business Impact Levels and protective marking. They are yet to arrest me, but I presume I'm on a watch list…**

**[1] The "Tube" is another word for the London Underground.**

**[2] The UK has a similar protective marking system as America (Top Secret, Secret, Confidential, Restricted, Protect, and codeworded compartments), but has three different ways of access Secret and Top Secret information. 'SC' stands for 'Security Check' and is the lowest top level check; provides unrestricted access to Secret information, and restricted, supervised access to Top Secret. 'SCE' stands for 'Security Check Enhanced'; provides unrestricted access to Secret, and restricted, **_**un**_**supervised access to Top Secret. 'DV' stands for 'Developed Vetting', and provides unrestricted, unsupervised access to Top Secret information.**

Next time on Best Laid Plans:  
>Holiday in Burbank? And Morgan has a lady friend… I wonder what Casey thinks of that?<p> 


	6. Sarah vs the Normal Life Chapter 1

**Sarah vs. the Normal Life—Chapter 1**

**Sorry, this chapter's a bit short, but I figured it was better than no chapter this week. I didn't really want to end up leaving it for three weeks like last time :).**

**Please read, and review. Keep reviewing. While I don't write for reviews, they are what makes me keep going and want to continue posting on here :).**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Bob Hope Airport was just the same as it was when Sarah first arrived in Burbank three years ago, to find the traitor to whom Bryce had sent the Intersect, and bring him in: the railing were the same, the signs were the same, nothing had changed. Except everything had changed. She was currently resting her head on the shoulder of the man she loved, as he strode forward, wheeling a suitcase behind him, walking towards the doors; towards people who cared about her. People who _cared_, about _her_! She chuckled slightly and looked up at Chuck, pressing a quick kiss to him lips as they strode out of the Arrivals area, and into the landside pickup area.

"Chuck!" Sarah looked up, and saw Ellie running towards them at full pelt, with Devon and Morgan striding along behind her. She was crushed against Chuck (not that she minded) as Ellie wrapped her arms them and pulled them into a tight hug. Sarah grinned as Ellie pulled, "I missed you little brother," she said, grinning back at Sarah. "We have some news for you."

"News? What news?"

"It can wait 'till we get home bro," Devon replied, wrapping his arm around Ellie, and gently placing his hand on her stomach. It was an action that was not missed by Sarah, who looked up at Ellie with a single raised eyebrow, her eyes flicking down to Devon's hand. Ellie simply beamed. "You look great Sarah, how've you been?" Devon continued.

"Never better," Sarah replied, reaching up to kiss Chuck again, causing Ellie to smile even wider; if that were possible.

"Hey little buddy," Chuck said, giving Morgan a high five as he approached, before turning to Sarah. "Shall we get going?"

"Yep," Sarah nodded happily, wrapping her arm back around Chuck's waist.

"So, what's new with you Morgan?" Sarah asked once they were in the car on the way to Echo Park.

"Umm, well, no, nothing, not much, maybe, I don't know," Morgan rambled out, fiddling with the buttons on the dress shirt he was wearing, eliciting a chuckle from Chuck.

"Who is she Morgan?" Chuck asked.

"What? Who? How did you know?"

"You know who I work for, right?" Chuck said with a grin on his face, "I watch people for a living, and I was trained by the best," he added, shooting his special smile at Sarah, who threw hers right back. Ellie, of course, noticed, and gave Devon a look, causing Chuck to shrug at Sarah.

"Oh, yea, right," Morgan mumbled, missing the whole Chuck-Sarah-Ellie-Devon interaction, before his eyes glazed over with a slightly dreamy look. "She's really nice, beautiful, lovely, everything. There's just one problem though."

"What's that?"

"It's John Casey's daughter."

**|CHUCK|**

**The Buy More, around two months earlier…**

Morgan walked through the CDs and DVDs aisle, inspecting the 'troops', dressed in his Buy More assistant manager's vest. His eyes scanned the shop floor, searching for two employees in particular… "_Aha!_" He spotted Jeff and Lester talking to a pretty brunette with green eyes, with hair that just… Feeling particularly chivalrous all of a sudden, he decided to head over and rescue her from their clutches.

"Hey," he said, shooing Jeff and Lester away with a stern 'I'm the Ass Man' look. "How can I help you?"

"Oh, umm, hi," she replied, still looking warily at Jeff and Lester, who had backed off, and were lurking at a safe distance. "John Casey sent me. He gave me this," said said nervously, holding up a key. It was not a Buy More key. Now it was Morgan's turn to be nervous. He placed his hand on the top of her back and gently but firmly guided her towards the break room, ignoring the disbelieving looks of Jeff and Lester, who were now back at the Nerd Herd desk in the middle of the store.

"Umm. This way please," he said.

"Okay. Who are you?" Morgan asked a little more forcefully than he had initially intended to. "CIA? NSA? Army? Air Force? I have full clearance."

She shook her head slowly from side to side, with a clueless expression forming on her face as she held the non-Buy More key limply at her side.

"Listen," Morgan began, more gently this time, and taking a sigh, "I can't let you back there unless you tell me who you are."

She looked at him like he was a mad man.

"Okay, okay, as a sign of good faith," Morgan reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out a white ID card that Chuck had given him so that he could get into Castle. "Agent Grimes, CIA. Now you." He motioned at her to do the same. Instead her mouth hung open a little at the sight of the CIA logo covering the front of the card.

"Umm, he… He, umm… He said he was my father."

It was like watching a tennis match. First she was nervous, then he was nervous. Next she had her mouth hanging open, then his jaw dropped at this latest revelation. "Oh," he squeaked, before regaining some composure. "Oh right. Casey has a daughter. Wow. Sorry. That's gonna take some time to process."

"I mean I don't even know if he was lying or not," she cut over his ramble. "He grabbed me from this place I work at, and there were these guys chasing us, and they got him. And then he said _this_ and gave me the key. How am I supposed—" She stopped when Morgan held up his hand.

"If he said it, it's true. I trust that man with my life. Colonel John Casey does not lie." She nodded meekly in response. "Now, let's see what that key opens."

"This is the Assistant Manager's key," Morgan mumbled, not wanting her to think he was some kind of stalker, "since that's not a Buy More key, I have to use this." The door to Casey's locked swung open, revealing his green Buy More polo shirt, a photo of President Reagan, and a small bottle of Johnny Walker. "Now, let's see what we have, aha!" Morgan exclaimed, finding a small keyhole in the back wall of the locker. "If you'll just give me that key, and you might want to stand back. It might explode." Alex blinked, and moved a few steps back as Morgan used the key Casey had given her to open the false back of the locker. "Wow," he said, "that's a lot of money."

Alex leaned over his shoulder as he pulled out a stack of $20 bills from the back compartment of the locker, which was filled to the brim with U.S. dollars, Canadian Dollars, Japanese Yen, British Pounds, and an assortment of different passports. "Wow," was all she could manage.

"Haha," Morgan laughed, not quite succeeding in covering up the tension. "Why does he want you to have all this?" No sooner had Morgan asked the question, than Devon came bursting in.

"Dude, we have a situation," he exclaimed, his eyes wide and face white.

"She's Casey's daughter, you can say anything in front of her."

Devon nodded, looking slightly alarmed at the revelation that Casey had a daughter. "Okay, but not out here, we need to get down there," he said, pointing at the 'locker' that lead down into Castle.

"Right, of course," Morgan said, pulling out his card.

"General?" Morgan asked, a shocked, and very worried expression forming on his face as he watched General Beckman frantically shredding documents on the screen in front of him.

"Mr Grimes, Woodcomb, and..."

"This is Casey's daughter," Morgan replied, eliciting an angry sigh from Beckman.

"Do you know nothing about plausible deniability Mr Grimes?"

Morgan frowned, as there was a knock on the door of General Beckman's office, and yelling seemed to be coming through. Beckman looked back with a frightened look and stuffed more papers into the overflowing shredder.

"Take Miss Coburn to a safe location Mr Grimes, somewhere out of the USA. It is no longer safe for her here."

"General, what's happening?" asked Devon, "I just got a call from Ellie saying Chuck's father was shot by some guy, and Chuck was arrested?"

"The Ring has taken over the Government," Beckman replied, as her door crashed open, its hinges now lying on the ground. "Chuck, Sarah and Casey are being taken away for... It doesn't matter, you are the only ones who can save—" Beckman was cut off by men in black suits bursting through the door and dragging her out, leaving a speechless Morgan and Devon now staring at static.

**|CHUCK|**

"So, I set her up in a hotel in Canada with the money Casey had stashed, and then came to res ie you guys," Morgan finished with more than a hint if pride, as Devon pulled the car into Echo Park.

"We don't like to meet our women in normal ways, do we?" Chuck laughed as they all piled into Ellie and Devon's apartment. "So, Sis, tell me know, what's this news?"

Ellie turned round to face Chuck, who was still in the doorway with Sarah, a massive grin on her face as she placed her hand on her stomach again, and Devon wrapped his arm around her, doing the same. This time Chuck did not miss the sign. He looked up at them with wide eyes.


	7. Sarah vs the Normal Life Chapter 2

**Sarah vs. the Normal Life—Chapter 2**

**Trust me :).**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Chuck has never heard Sarah squeal before. Cry, yes. Laugh, yes. Scream, maybe. Squeal, no. However, when Ellie said "I'm pregnant," she squealed, before clapping her hand over her mouth with a shocked expression forming on her face. Chuck, for his part, hugged Ellie, while Sarah stood in the doorway, still trying to comprehend the sound that had just come out of her mouth.

"I'm so happy for you guys! Why didn't you call?" Chuck exclaimed excitedly.

"Well, we only found out a couple of day ago, and then you called to say you were coming up, so we thought we'd just tell you in person."

Chuck just grinned at Ellie, "when are—" he ventured.

"I'm only three weeks in, Chuck," Ellie laughed, "Sarah, what are you doing standing in the doorway? Come in."

Sarah looked up at Ellie, before realisation at where she was standing crossed her face, and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. Chuck reattached his arm around her waist and guided her towards the sofa, where they sat down with Sarah snuggled up against Chuck in her usual position: her arms around his shoulders and her head on his chest.

"So, Chuck. How's work?" Devon asked, handing Chuck a drink.

"Oh, you know," Chuck said vaguely, gesticulating with his arms, "I have a desk job now." He paused for a second, stroking Sarah's hand, before continuing, "we went to England a couple of days ago."

"What?" Ellie began frantically, "you said 'no more field missions' Chuck! How—"

"Relax, Ellie," Sarah said, "it was a simple meeting with British Intelligence. No danger what so ever."

At Sarah's assurance, Ellie relaxed, and the next hour passed in idle chatter, with Ellie getting up periodically to check on dinner, as Chuck and Morgan discussed the newest game releases and how the Buy More was rebuilt so rapidly.

**|CHUCK|**

**Around two months earlier…**

Chuck stood outside the door to Ellie and Devon's apartment, steeling himself for his 'meeting' with her. Not five seconds after Beckman had recalled him to Washington, and promptly cut the line, he remembered his promise to Ellie. He was just about to get Beckman back on the line, when Sarah stopped him. After a long, heated debate, during which Sarah pointed out several times that he did not really want to quit, and assured him that he would not have to lie to Ellie ("_I love Ellie too_"), he finally decided to take the promotion.

Now, as he stood outside Ellie's door, awaiting her wrath, he was pretty sure returning to the Buy More was a better option. He glanced at Sarah standing next to him, who flashed a smile and squeezed his hand, before taking a breath and knocking on the door. It flung open, to reveal Ellie, framed against the light from the apartment as it spilled out into the moonlit courtyard.

"Chuck! Come in," she said, pulling Chuck and Sarah into the apartment, before looking at him expectantly.

Chuck sighed, "Umm, Ell… I didn't exactly quit, as—"

"What?"

"I kind of, umm, got a promotion instead," Chuck rushed out, as if mumbling it would make it better.

"Chuck," Ellie began, her voice wavering only a little. "I thought we talked out this? No more lies?"

"There won't be any lies," Chuck replied quickly, it's a desk job at the headquarters in Langley. I'll just be doing research and stuff."

"But it'll be dangerous…"

"I'll be at the headquarters, Sis, there's no safer place. Right, Sarah?"

"Right. It's tested four time a month to ensure the security remains flawless," Sarah replied, backing Chuck up.

"See? And I'll be staying at Sarah's place, which is, like, the second safest place."

Ellie continued to stare at him, her resolve breaking, before she turned to Sarah. "And you agreed to this?"

"Don't bring Sarah into this," Chuck interjected more forcefully than he wanted to. "It's my decision, Sis. I don't want to spend the rest of my life working in a Buy More. I want to _do_ something with my life. I can help people. Besides, Sarah will be there the whole time; she's still technically my bodygaurd."

Ellie still looked unsurely at him, biting her lower lip.

"Sis," Chuck sighed again, "do you remember that first double date we had a couple of years ago? The one where that guy collapsed and you took him to hospital."

She nodded.

"Well, he was basically a terrorist." Ellie just looked at him impassively, trying to see what his point was. "I was freaking out, Sis. You were in a confined space with a very dangerous man, and I could do nothing about it. But then," he paused, about to reach the crux of his point, "Sarah reminded me that you were just doing your job. Just doing what you were trained to do. Please, let me do my job. Let me do what _I_ was trained to do. I can help people. I do help people; on a daily basis." Chuck finished his not-really-impromtu, impromtu speech that he had been planning since he decided to accept the promotion.

"Okay," Ellie replied after a painful pause, eliciting a 'huh' from Chuck. "I said okay. You love this, I can't stop you. Just, just promise you'll be safe?"

****|CHUCK|****

"Hey, Chuck," Morgan called from across the table, as Ellie laid out her favourite pecan pie on the table.

"Yea, little buddy?"

"Comic Con's coming up. You know, it's been a while since we've been, maybe we should go next year?"

Chuck smiled at the thought of going to Comic Con with Morgan. The last time they had gone was the year before Sarah had waltzed into his life with her 'broken' phone. "Yea, that'd be great Morg. Just let me check." He turned to the beautiful blonde sitting next to him, adorably shoveling a spoonful of pie into her mouth. She looked up when she realised Chuck was looking at her, and met his expectant face with a clueless expression. He laughed. "Can I go to Comic Con with Morgan, Sarah?"

"Oh," she blushed slightly, "of course you can go Chuck. I wouldn't stop you from doing something you wanted to, unless it would get you killed, or I didn't like it. Which," she continued, cocking her head to the side, "I suppose could get you killed…"

Chuck chuckled nervously. "_Just one of the perks of dating someone who knew several thousand way to kill you…_"

"Just one condition though."

"Yea?"

"Can I come too?"

"Wha—" Chuck stumbled. "Yea," he continued, a smile stretching out on his face. "Yea, of course Sarah. But are you sure, I mean, it's going to be pretty nerdy…"

"Well, partly I want to see if all this nerdy stuff is all it's cracked up to be." Chuck raised an eyebrow. "But mostly; you can't really expect me to manage a week, or however long it is, without my pillow, can you? I'd never get any sleep." That got an 'aww' from Ellie, who was eating pecans from the bag at the kitchen counter.

Chuck, now grinning from ear to ear, turned back to Morgan. "We'd love to come."

"So you're a 'we' now are you?"

"Morgan—"

"I'm kidding. Kidding, Chuck," he said, holding his hands up. "Just remember what I said on the phone."

Chuck shot Morgan a frightened look that shut him up straight away, but it was too late, the damage had been done. Sarah frowned. Ellie, sensing the tension, jumped up and ordered Devon and Chuck to help her with the dishes; of course, she had an ulterior motive.

"Things are going well with Sarah," she stated, scrubbing bits of lasagna from a plate.

"Huh?" Chuck replied, a worried expression laden on his face as he watched Sarah march Morgan into the bedroom.

"I said, things are going well with Sarah."

"Oh, yea," he said, a goofy smile replacing the worried frown at the the thought of her. "Yea, it's going really well." He paused for a second, before realisation dawned. "No. No, no no no. I know that tone Ellie. You're not going all relationship-therapist on us!"

"What?" she replied innocently, "I just wanted to know how things were going."

Chuck merely raised a single eyebrow.

"Okay, fine. Are you going to ask her?"

"Ask her what?"

"You know, marr—"

"Marriage?" Chuck cut her off. "Yes, at some point, probably. But I'm not sure if she's ready for that kind of comm—" He stopped mid-word, glancing back at the bedroom door, and his heart sank. He knew she had heard. The hurt expression on her face as she rushed into his bedroom, throwing Morgan out in the process, told him as much.

**|CHUCK|**

He came in as she was fighting back tears. "_He doesn't think I'm ready._" The moment she thought it a few tears managed to break free and slide along her face, smearing eyeliner into a long streak down her cheek.

"Sarah, I—"

"You don't think I'm ready?" She cut him off, her voice shaky with emotion.

"I didn't—"

"Is this because of this unpacking thing? This 'Achilles' Heel'?" She cut him off again, sadness now giving way to anger. "You said you didn't care!"

"How did? You! You spied on me!" Chuck shouted it, his eyes dancing with anger as his voice trembled with accusation.

"So what if I did? You lied to me about how you felt! I had—"

"You had to? YOU HAD TO?" Chuck was yelling now, with venom she had never seen directed towards her before. He never got angry at her. Sad, maybe, but never angry. "You don't even trust me to speak to my own best friend!"

"Clearly I shouldn't trust you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You lied!"

"And you never did? For the first three years— I told one— Actually, you know what. I'm going." Chuck stormed out of the room, leaving a stunned Sarah to stumble back onto his bed with tears pouring down her cheeks as her shoulders shook with sobs. It did it take Ellie long to come in and place arm across her shoulders as the tears came hard and fast, splashing into the carpet.

**|CHUCK|**

"_Figures,_" he thought, looking around the room. He was not sure why he had asked the taxi driver to bring him to this hotel, and it was typical that the only room available was this one: Sarah's one. In a daze, he walked over to the bed, glancing over at the dressing table where he had been talking to Bryce when Sarah came out wearing that red (or salmon, or whatever) dress: of course he loved it. Then again, a garbage bag would have done. His mouth tugged up for a second, before he felt his heart pang at was had just happened. Curling up into a ball on the bed, he lay there, staring at the window.

The knock that woke him was shaky. Glancing, bleary eyed, at the alarm clock on the wall at the foot of the bed, he realised it was near to midnight. Not a second later, he remembered where he was. As memories of that evening came crashing over him, tears took over his face again, just as another shaky knock landed on the door. He stumbled out of the bed and hobbled over, attempting to unchain the door through the haze of water running over his face. The door swung open, revealing the love of his life standing in the hallway. He legs close together with one knee crooked inwards as her arms hung lifelessly beside her. Her blonde hair framed her face as the dim yellow lighting of the hotel corridor shimmered off from the trails of tears criss-crossing her face, pulling mascara and eyeliner away from her blue eyes, bloodshot from crying, and down into long streaks across her face.

"Sarah," he croaked.

She just looked at him, her shining eyes locking with his. He held out his arms as a few more droplets escaped the pools of blue. Tears pooled in her lower lids as her eyes flicked down to to outstretched arms, before she flung herself into them, clutching his shirt tightly towards her as he rested his chin on her head, tangling his hands in her hair while she buried her face in his chest.

"Shh…" he whispered, hugging her tightly as she sobbed, but without saying anything else. He gently closed the door and slowly guided her towards the bed, sitting down on it with her still wrapped up in his arms.

"'m sorry," she mumbled after a few minutes of them sitting in silence, him softly stroking her back as she cried, had passed.

"Hmm?" he replied, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

"I'm sorry," she said again, still looking at his chest.

"Wha—"

"For talking to Morgan behind your back," she clarified, before adding in the quietest of ashamed whispers, "for not trusting you."

"Oh, Sarah," he replied, hugging her, "you have nothing to be sorry for. I lied to you."

She shook her head in his chest, "I shouldn't have gone behind your back like that. I should be able to trust you. You were right about the marriage thing."

Chuck sighed, "I should have never said that. It was a stupid, ridiculous—"

"How are we going to get married if I am incapable of trusting?" she interrupted. "What's wrong with me?"

"Hey," Chuck said, removing his cheek from her crown and tilting her chin up to look at him. "Nothing is wrong with you. This whole thing is my fault. I overreacted, and then I walked out! I— I just didn't want to say anything I'd regret."

"I couldn't sleep," she said in reply, "after you left. Ellie found me curled up at the foot of the bed, crying—"

"Sarah, I'm so—"

"She pulled me up, dragged me to the car, and drove me here," Sarah continued, ignoring Chuck. "When we got here, she told me not to come back until we had made up." Sarah forced out a shaky laugh. "Your sister would make quite the interrogator."

"That she would," Chuck replied, with a laugh of his own, before pausing. "Sarah, look. I'm so sorry. I've just been lying here all night thinking about what a jerk I was, and—" He stopped when she pressed a single finger against his lips.

"It's okay Chuck. It's fine. We're fine."

Chuck smiled against her finger, and it became a grin when she replaced it with her mouth. They kissed as the fell back on the bed, and drifted into sleep in each other's arms, their faces inches apart and legs intertwined under the think hotel duvet.

_~Author's Note~_

**I told you to trust me ;). Seriously though, I felt that they did need to a have an argument. Plus, it led to one of my favourite scenes to write so far…**


	8. Sarah vs the Normal Life Chapter 3

**Sarah vs. the Normal Life—Chapter 3**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"Chuuck," Sarah moaned as rays of light sliced through the tiny opening in the curtains of the hotel room. "Make it stop," she said, swatting the dust particles floating in the beam lazily with her arm. After a few seconds of Chuck continuing to snore, blissfully unaware of the slightly blinded, tired and bleary eyed Sarah currently resting her head on his chest, she groaned and buried her head in his chest; trying to block out the light. "Chuuck," she repeated as he instinctively tightened his arms around her. "Chuck, wake up."

"Huh?" The very Casey-esque grunt came as Chuck finally opened his eyes, only to slam them shut again as the light burned into his retina. "God. Why is the window open?"

"Switch it off," Sarah mumbled into his chest as Chuck gently rolled out of the bed and stumbled over to the window, pulling the curtains closed so that the only light that illuminated the room was the soft glow that managed to diffuse through the thick fabric. "Now come back to bed. I need my pillow." Chuck laughed as he made his way back to the bed and wrapped Sarah up in his arms.

"Good morning beautiful," he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

"Good morning Mr Bartowski," she replied, laughing, "and little Mr Bartowski?" she added, cocking an eyebrow as her hand began to wander and she pulled him down under the duvet.

Sarah sighed contentedly as she sat on the edge of the soft bed, watching Chuck trying to pull his jeans on. The phone had rung just as they were finishing their impromptu session, once again reminding Sarah that, although she loved Ellie, she _really_ needed to work on her timing. Then again, their 'impromptu sessions' tended to last a surprisingly long time, with this not being an exception. Having woken up at 8am, when the Sun was at just the right angle to blind her, they had gone on until eleven, when Ellie rang. It was a short session. She paused when Chuck had finally managed to get dressed, and sauntered over to her, reaching out with his hands; grabbing them, she pulled herself up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I think Ellie misses us," Sarah said with an amused smile, looking over at the five new messages on Chuck's phone.

"Hmm, I suppose we could actually check out of a hotel room on time for once."

"I suppose," she replied, with an adorable faux dejected pout.

**|CHUCK|**

"I see you made up?" were the first words out of Ellie's mouth when she opened the door to find Chuck with his arms draped over Sarah's shoulders, and her head resting on his upper arm.

"Yep," Chuck replied, nodding contentedly and squeezing Sarah's shoulders.

"Okay," Ellie replied, sounding confusingly unhappy. Maybe not _unhappy_, but definitely not the ecstatic squealing Chuck was expecting. "Devon, why don't you get Sarah a drink," she called over her shoulder, before turning back to face them. "Chuck. I need you to take some stuff from your room."

Ellie turned on her heel, leaving Chuck to tag along timidly behind her, reluctantly letting go of Sarah who, equally confused, stepped unsurely over to a bemused Devon who knew better than to interfere with Ellie's 'mother mode'. Chuck ambled into his old room—which was exactly how he had left it, his old record player still on the stool next to his now-bare desk—and shut the door behind him. "So, what do you want me to get rid of?" he asked, the ghost of a smile on his face as he tried to live in hope that that was the only reason (or even part of the reason) Ellie had dragged him in here.

She just raised an eyebrow. "What the hell was that Chuck?"

"What? I just wanted to know—"

"Not that!" Ellie waved a dismissive hand at Chuck. "Yesterday. One mention of marriage and all hell breaks loose!"

"I told you not to bring it up, Sis…"

"Chuck. What happened?"

"I don't really—"

"Chuck."

"Ellie, I really don't—"

"Chuck," she repeated a little more forcefully.

"Sis. I don't—"

"Charles Irving Bartowski! You will tell me what the hell happened or, so help me God, I will get John Casey in here to beat it out of you."

Chuck sighed, and flinched when Ellie narrowed her eyes at him, before he decided that he might as well get it over with. "Well, she heard me say the stuff, about marriage, and she was upset."

Ellie just gave him a "_well, duh,_" look.

"And then she said she had spoken to Morgan behind my back… and I guess I kind of lost it."

"Why, Chuck?"

"I don't know—"

"Let me finish Chuck." Chuck looked at the floor, and Ellie watched him impassively for a moment. "Why did that bother you so much? I know my little brother, he doesn't yell for anything."

"I don't know," he began cautiously as Ellie watched him, her eyes filled with… worry? "I think, I guess, it's just that—"

"Chuck."

"It's just my insecurities Ellie. You know what I'm like, especially with someone like Sarah."

"Someone like Sarah?"

"You know… angel-like," he waved his arms out in front him to exaggerate his point by drawing a vase shape.

Ellie just rolled her eyes, and finally broke out into a small smile at the nerdy comment that only Chuck could make sound sweet. "Okay. But Chuck, you can't keep all this bottled up. You and Sarah have to talk about this stuff; you can't keep having these huge arguments and then making up within moments of seeing each other. It's not healthy."

Chuck looked dejectedly at his desk, and sighed. "I know, I know. I'm just scared of bringing it up, you know. There's a whole Pandora's box of stuff that happened between us, and we kind of have a silent agreement to not ever talk about it."

"That's exactly my point Chuck. You, and Sarah, you both can't keep this stuff bottled up. And I've seen you two together for three, nearly four years now; having this conversation is not going to break you apart. I'm fairly sure that there's a law of Physics against that; the fact you went through all that 'Pandora's box' of stuff it testament to it. But if you don't have it, it'll always be at the back of your minds."

"Yea, yea I know," he sighed again, but nodded as he spoke. "I'll talk to her when we go back to Washington tomorrow."

Ellie smiled and reached out her arms, hugging Chuck. "Aces, Charles. Remember it, Chuck."

"Thanks Sis," he replied, pulling back from the hug as Devon knocked on the door.

"El, do you want me to fix something for lunch?"

Chuck looked at Ellie in horror at the thought of Devon cooking lunch, and gave Ellie a silent plea to save them all from some kind of exotic protein shake pie. Ellie laughed, and walked over to the door, swinging it open. "No, it's fine Devon. I've got it."

Chuck followed Ellie out of the room, and found Sarah on the couch with a drink her hand, and her legs tucked underneath her as she leaned on the armrest and turned her head to throw a smile at Chuck. He wandered aimlessly over to her and sat down, wrapping his arms around her and curling up into a ball with her in his lap. "I love you," he whispered quietly in her ear.

She looked up at him with a bemused expression on her face. "I love you too. What's brought this on?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Nope," she replied, smiling and resting her head back on his arm. After a moment, she looked at him again, "What did Ellie want?"

"Just about yesterday," Chuck replied, trying to avoid going into details. There would be plenty of time to talk about that in D.C.

Sarah raised an eyebrow. "That's all?"

"She just wanted to make sure we're okay," he said with a smile.

"And what did you tell her?"

"That we're okay," Chuck looked into her eyes as he said it, before wrapped her up in his arms again, and turning to watch the news that was currently playing on the TV when he heard the mention of 'London' and 'MI6'.

"_We don't know why an entire district of London was sealed off for five hours last week, but we do know that the press was not allowed into the Vauxhall area of London, where the MI6—England's equivalent of the CIA—is located, for the remainder of the day,_" the news report came out through the new plasma screen that Devon had bought (earning a big sale at the new Buy More for an ecstatic Morgan Grimes, Assistant Manager), and the image of the overly made-up, hair-sprayed-until-it-looked-like-a-sculpture news anchor was replaced with a Google Maps shot of London.

Chuck turned to look at Sarah, who burst out laughing when she saw the look of shock on his face. "Now you know why I don't watch the news, Chuck."

"I'm guessing that that had something to do with your 'trip' to London?" Ellie's voice came accompanied with a large plate of sandwiches.

"Uh, yea. It was—"

Ellie threw up her hands. "I don't want to know. Just stay safe."

**|CHUCK|**

"Chuck!" Morgan's voice came from the corridor running past the kitchen towards the bedrooms of the apartment just as Chuck was finishing the last sandwich.

"Morgan! Why can't use use the door like a normal person?" Ellie replied as she made her way over to the front door. "Chuck, I've got to go, code orange. There's a jackknifed truck on the Interstate."

Morgan just ignored her and carried on babbling. "He's gonna kill me Chuck! What am I gonna do? Have you seen him when he growls?"

"Morgan," Chuck said, trying to get him to calm down. "What's wrong?"

"Casey, Chuck!"

Chuck just looked at him with a confused expression, and began to untangle himself from Sarah, who pouted. "Sorry, you know how Morgan is…" Chuck replied, kissing her quickly and making his way over to the kitchen, where Morgan had begun to go through the fridge. "What about Casey, Morgan?"

"He's here!"

"Yea, I know. We all got time off."

"With Alex!"

"Alex?"

"Casey's daughter, Alex."

"So—oh," Chuck replied, realisation dawning as he elided the two words together.

"She wants me to go over. Tonight. For a date. With him," he said each phrase separately, as if he was just realising what he had gotten himself into as he was speaking the words.

"Morgan, calm down."

"Calm down? Chuck!"

"Morgan," Chuck replied firmly, waving Sarah over with his right hand. She would probably be helpful in a matter regarding Casey. "Casey is not going to kill you."

"What's up, Chuck?" Sarah asked, once she had made her way into the kitchen and perched herself on the worktop.

"Morgan has a date with his new girlfriend."

Sarah raised an eyebrow when Chuck said 'girlfriend'. "So?"

"His new girlfriend is Casey's daughter. And Casey is here to visit her."

Sarah smirked, hearing this.

"What, what what what?" Morgan babbled when he saw the look on her face.

"Nothing," Sarah replied, a mischievous smirk playing on her face.

"Chuck, your girlfriend's mean," Morgan whined, turning back to Chuck, who had moved over to the worktop so he could wrap his arm around Sarah.

"Don't be mean Sarah," Chuck said with faux seriousness as he leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"Sorry," she replied, before turning back to Morgan. "Casey will test you, to see if he thinks you're worthy. If you pass, you'll be fine, if you don't…"

"Just, make sure you pass," Chuck interrupted quickly, when he noticed a playful smirk reappear on Sarah's face.

"What, pass? How do I pass? I can't shoot, or fight or—"

"Morgan," Sarah said, breaking off his blubbering. "Just show Casey that you aren't out for a fling with his daughter."

"Oh, oh. Okay. I can do that," Morgan replied, nodding his head. "Should I get flowers for her?"

Chuck laughed. "Yes. Yes, you probably should, Morgan."

**|CHUCK|**

"Morgan. Has a girlfriend," Sarah repeated for the third or fourth time since he had left to go and buy flowers, and clothes (Sarah's orders), for Alex. "Nope. It still doesn't sound right."

"You know, three years ago, neither of us would have believed that in three years time we would have non-dead-end jobs and beautiful girlfriends."

Sarah smiled at him. "You just got what you deserve Chuck."

"I got way more," he countered.

"So did I," she said, just as her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, and grimaced when she saw the screen. "It's Beckman."

"What does she want?"

"She said to 'make sure we're decent'," Sarah replied with an amused grin. "She sounds just like Casey."

"Why would she—" his frowning question was cut off by the clicking, buzzing and beeping of the TV screen, as it switched itself on and an image of Beckman appeared on the screen.

"Chuck, Sarah," she acknowledged them with a nod. "I have some news."

"About what, General?"

"I've just come out of a rather lengthy discussion with the chief of the SIS. He wanted to know how two _American_ spies seemed to have more intelligence on his staff than he did."

Chuck and Sarah shared a worried look with each other. They had been hoping the SIS wouldn't notice that.

"Exactly," Beckman said in response to their tense silence. "He contacted me, and we do have an intelligence shared agreement with the British; so I made a deal."

"What kind of deal, exactly, General?" Chuck asked.

"I read them in on the revived Project Omaha, and in exchange, they add their intel to the Intersect 3.0, _and_ they give us the unredacted copy of that file you need, Chuck."

"You got the file?" Chuck asked excitedly, knowing that this would be—could be, he corrected; he still didn't know what was on the file—a huge breakthrough for him.

"Yes. And you will know be collaborating with the SIS and GCHQ in the development of the 3.0. Your British contact is Agent Barker. I believe you already know him?"

"Yes ma'am," Chuck and Sarah replied in unison.

"Good. That will be all. The file will be waiting on your desk when you get back tomorrow, Chuck." With that, the line disconnected and the screen returned to a dull grey colour that seemed to substitute for black on most TVs.

Chuck turned to Sarah with a smile on his face. "So, I'll be working with Cole…"

"Are you okay with that, Chuck?" she asked with a hint of worry. "I know we've had a bit of a rocky past there."

"It's fine, Sarah. I do like the guy, even if he is a bit of a James Bond," he wiggled his eyebrows as he said it.

"Yea," Sarah said, drawing out the word. "But I didn't fall in love with James Bond."

_~"The course of true love never did run smooth." ―A Midsummer Night's Dream A1S1, William Shakespeare~_

**Sorry for the recently erratic updates, I had my AS Level exams (I know, who knew they needed work, right?). Now that they are over, I'll try to keep a better schedule.**

**[1] Code orange is code for a "mass casualty incident" in a fair few hospitals, according to Wikipedia.**

Next time on Best Laid Plans:  
>Chuck didn't really know why the CIA wanted their agents to be dressed in a black suit, with a black tie, and black sunglasses; to him, the get up screamed 'Secret Agent', there wasn't really anything inconspicuous about it. Still, he mused as he paused at the door to the house and Sarah reached out to knock, it gave him the air of authority he would be needed to search the place. The door swung open at Sarah's knock, revealing a pretty brunette with wide brown eyes, whose flirtatious smile dropped when she saw the man standing at her door.<p>

"Chuck?"

Chuck's jaw had dropped into a small O when the door was opened, and had remained there since then. Composing himself, he managed to splutter, "H― Hannah?"


	9. Chuck vs the Old Friends Chapter 1

**Chuck vs. the Old Friends—Chapter 1**

**First of all, I'd like to say a quick thank you to everyone who reviews and added the story to their favourites and alerts; it means a lot to me. Also to coreymon77 and Hotski who have diligently reviewed every chapter :). **

**Also… I love the new cover image thingy that FF has added, tell me what you think of the one I made for _Best Laid Plans_.**

**Now, without further ado… **

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

The man walked briskly through the park, ignoring the trees the he passed and the nature that most people came here to wonder at. He held his head down, as his dark brown fringe flopping forward over his forehead and he fidgeted with the small leather case in his jacket pocket. He had to get rid of it. He had done what they had asked him to; now he needed to escape from this, this thing he had gotten himself into. It wasn't his fault, he reasoned, he was forced into this situation; if they only paid him properly he wouldn't have to resort to doing things like this. It's not like he enjoys being a traitor. Through the strands of hair hanging in front of his face he spotted a brunette woman striding along. She had a large handbag, the kind which always had gaps in the top and never closed properly. Lifting his head up for a split second, he catalogued her; she didn't have a wedding ring, she seemed carefree, with no commitments. No children to look after. At least he would only be ruining one life. He grimaced as he picked up his pace to catch up with her, and her brown hair bobbed in the breeze.

Pulling up behind her, and slowed his pace to a steady stride that matched her pace before he waited for a second. Holding his breath, he feigned a stumble, and fell forward into her back. Quickly, he slipped the case into the gap that was open at the back side of the top of her bag before she turned around to look at him. He grabbed her arm to stop her from falling, and smiled quickly before mumbling a swift apology and striding away. There was no need to hang around for any longer than he needed to; that would just be putting more people in danger. He pulled out his Blackberry, and opened the messages, typing out a quick text to _them_. "_The package is with a civilian in D.C. The tracker will be able to locate it. Can I get paid now?_" He didn't mind sounding desperate, if it meant he got paid sooner.

The reply came within seconds, just as he was striding out through the park exit onto the road, and turning left, towards the Italian Embassy. "_The funds will be wired to your account once we have retrieved the package._" He sighed. That meant more waiting. He had to lie low for a while, at least until the funds were wired and he could get a flight out to South Africa, where he'd buy a nice house, where he could live out the rest of his life in relative comfort.

**|CHUCK|**

"Freeze!" Chuck yelled, as he ran through the Arrivals lounge of Washington Dulles Airport. The man he was chasing, dressed in the most conspicuous of prisoner outfits: the orange jumpsuit, turned and smirked, before continuing to leap over row after row of seats. "_It'll be a simple transfer,_" the Director had said. "_I know you still technically have one more day off, but you're there anyway. Just make sure the Marshals don't screw up,_" he had said. Chuck grunted, simple like hell. The Director had called as soon as their flight from Burbank had landed, saying that there was a Con Air flight inbound with a CIA prisoner on it, and asked them to escort him back to Langley. Chuck lowered his arms holding his tranq gun, before following the man through the large glass walled hall and ignoring the frightened stares of innocent passengers as he barrelled past; closely followed by four U.S. Marshals dressed in their dark jackets emblazoned with the yellow five pointed star badge and baseball caps with embroidered JPATS patches.

The guy blasted through a pair of patrolling cops who stumbled for a second, before whipping out their pistols and taking aim at the prisoner. "No!" Chuck called out, musing that the t-shirt and jeans he was wearing did nothing to help to cement any authority. "Don't shoot, CIA," he whipped out his badge and flashed it at them as he ran past, hoping to god that Sarah had managed to make it round through the Duty Free shopping to cut the guy off. Turning the corner, he saw the bright orange jumpsuit stick out like a sore thumb as the prisoner continued to run through the crowds of passengers. Chuck was just about to follow, when one of the Marshals caught up with him.

"I don't see why we can't just shoot him," he huffed, placing his hands on his hips and tilting his head back as he tried to recover. They had been running since the prisoner broke his thumbs and slipped out of his shackles while they were waiting for the CIA transport.

"Sorry," Chuck replied with a weak smile. "Director's orders. My partners have gone round the back to try and cut him off—" Chuck looked up just in time to see Sarah landing a perfectly executed roundhouse kick on the man's bald head. "Ah. There she is now."

"Hi sweetie, nice of you to show up," Sarah said with a smirk, as Chuck jogged up.

Chuck flicked his eyes over to the four Marshals following him in response to Sarah's use of 'sweetie', and looked at her pointedly.

"Oh, sorry. _Agent Carmichael_," she correctly sultrily, and Chuck raised an eyebrow. "Nice of you to show up."

"We can't be in Washington for one hour without something going wrong, can we?" Chuck replied, attempting to swiftly change the subject.

"Apparently not," Sarah sighed as the Marshals arrived with handcuffs. "Do you have ankle shackles?" she asked, hoping they had had the forethought to pack some.

"Right here," the red faced, trigger happy Marshal replied, handing over a large pair of shackles connected by a heavy looking chain.

She kept one knee on the small of the prisoner's back and held his face down to the ground with her hand, as Chuck kneeled down to clasp the handcuffs over his wrists, taking particular care to not take any care in his treatment of the broken thumbs. "Why does this guy need a CIA escort anyway?"

"No idea. We must need him for questioning," she replied, before leaning in to whisper in Chuck's ear. "He'll probably be shipped out for enhanced interrogation."

"Oh. Now I feel bad," Chuck said with a slightly glum face.

"Get the moron up, moron." Casey's grunt came out from above Chuck.

"Nice to see you too, Casey. Is the transport here?"

Casey grunted in reply, and by the slightly higher pitch (maybe bottom C sharp, rather than bottom C natural), Chuck took it to mean the affirmative. He lifted the man up by one arm as Sarah took hold of the other, and grabbed the black bag out of Casey's hand before placing it over the prisoner's head. They marched him through the crowds, with two Marshals in front, followed by Casey and then Chuck, Sarah and the prisoner, and two Marshals covering the rear.

**|CHUCK|**

"Sarah," Chuck called from the door of their apartment, balancing on one leg as he attempted to kick the door shut, whilst propping up a pizza box on the tips of his fingers of one hand, and holding a drink in the other.

"Yep," Sarah replied, poking her head out from the bedroom, before swiftly appearing in front of him and grabbing the pizza box out of his hand with agility that defied logic; just as Chuck fell forward spilling what was left of his drink all over the floor. "Well," Sarah said, thoughtfully tilting her head as Chuck groaned, "I saved the pizza."

"Glad to see you have your priorities in order," Chuck grumbled as Sarah pulled him up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"You can clean it later, Chuck," she added, realising that he was heading over to the kitchen counter to collect some paper towels. She went over to the couch to the left of the bedroom, on the other side to the kitchen and in front of the TV, and sat down.

"I don't want it to stain," Chuck replied.

"It's fine Chuck," Sarah said. "The pizza's getting cold. And so am I."

Chuck raised an eyebrow as he walked over.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I need my pillow-slash-hot water bottle to be accessible at all times."

"I couldn't ask for a better job."

They sat next to each other in amiable silence for a few minutes, as Chuck watched her thoughtfully whilst munching on a slice.

"What?" Sarah asked amusedly.

Chuck smiled, and moved closer. "I was talking to Ellie," he began, fidgeting with his hands and looking at her hair. "And she thinks we should talk."

"Talk?" Sarah inquired, although she was fairly sure where this was going.

"About..." Chuck paused, trailing off and inspecting the pizza box. "About the stuff, that, um, well..." Chuck paused again, and was interrupted by a loud bleeping noise before he could finish.

"General?" Sarah frowned, turning towards the TV, and shaking all thoughts of her rocky past relationship with Chuck out of her mind as an image of General Beckman's bedroom appeared.

"I apologise for the intrusion, Agent Walker, but this is an emergency. I've just received a call from the Director, something urgent has come up. He will give you details when you get to Langley."

"Langley? Now?" Chuck asked incredulously.

"Yes, I'm sorry Chuck. You are not the only one who had plans disturbed."

"Will Casey be coming too?"

"No, I'm afraid the Colonel is otherwise occupied."

Chuck frowned.

"He's executing a sanction."

"A what now?"

Sarah leaned across the couch to whisper in his ear. "He's doing what he does best, Chuck."

"Huh? Oh. Oooh, right," Chuck grimaced and Sarah smiled ruefully at him as realisation dawned.

Beckman regarded them for a moment, before continuing. "So it will just be the two of you, the Director is waiting for you."

"We'll head out now," Sarah replied as she began to stand up. She paused when she heard another voice coming from the TV. It couldn't be, could it?

"Diane," the unmistakable soft, cooing voice of Roan Montgomery floated out from the background.

Sarah turned slowly back to face the screen, and witnessed a three star General gradually turn the same shade as her hair. "Like I said. We all had plans," she said, clearing her throat before adding "and tell Agent Bartowski to stop snickering." With that, she cut the line.

**|CHUCK|**

The thick metal door slid open with a slight grinding noise, and four men began to shuffle out; the clanking of their ankle shackles against the tarmac ground audible even from the top of the sentry tower embedded in the wall at the opposite end of the recreational area. The moonlight glinted off from the orange mirrored fronts of Casey's binoculars as he watched the men dressed in dark blue scrubs continue to slowly march their way out of the cell blocked, escorted by ten prison guards: two on either side of each convict, one leading, and one following the column; all armed with side arms strapped to a leather belt wrapped around the beige uniforms. He calmly twisted the knob on the binoculars to focus on the third convict in the column, whose raven hair flailed abruptly in the chilling winter breeze, as they made their way to a row of four 3m square cages located in the centre of the recreational area. Technically, the third man in the column wasn't a convict; he was purportedly being held pending a full trial. Casey was here to ensure he never made it to that trial.

He shifted slightly, twisting his prone body to the left to ensure his SIG was still where had left it: just a split second away from his hand. Pressing the rubber surrounded eyepieces back to his eyes, he watched as the guards escorted the men into the cages, and the prisoners laid face down on the ground. One of the two guards then proceeded to remove the shackles, chains and cuffs from the men; whilst the other trained their weapon on him. Shifting again, he pulled over his M82 sniper rifle and loaded it with a single 5 cm long .50 calibre round, whilst placing his binoculars to one side. Poking the barrel out in between the bars of the safety railing surrounding the platform, he adjusted the scope; focussing it on the man, who was now leisurely pacing in a square; tracing the edge of his tarnished metal cage.

Casey zoomed in on the face of his target, and released a small snarl out into the night. Normally he wouldn't zoom in; zooming in added more emotion to the operation, and Casey didn't need to zoom in the make the shot. This, however, was an exception. Training the crosshairs on the back of Daniel Shaw's head, Casey waited. He waited for Shaw to turn around; so he could see the light leave his eyes. Drawing in a breath, he watched through the scope as Shaw turned the corner of the cage and turning his face, so he was staring straight at the tower atop which Casey was perched. Firmly, and deliberately, he clenched his right hand shut around the trigger, releasing a resounding crack that shattered the air as a cloud of red mist replaced the head of Daniel Shaw.

Swiftly, he stood up and dismantled the gun, placing the components back into the foam padded suitcase, as Shaw's headless body collapsed to the floor. He watched for a brief moment, as the (CIA positioned) prison guards picked up the corpse and zipped it up into a bag; ignoring the other prisoners who had taken refuge in the corners of their cages. He then turned around, and stepped back into the main room of the sentry tower, glancing over at the guards who were slumped over their workstations, to ensure that he had removed all the twilight darts from their necks, before walking down the stairs and disappearing into the night.

**|CHUCK|**

"Director," Sarah said, as she walked into his office with Chuck and glanced at the photo on his desk. "_Graham never had a photo,_" she thought, as Chuck followed her through the heavy oak doors.

"Agents, sit down," he motioned to the two leather seats in front of his desk. "We have a situation."

Chuck and Sarah both gave quick nods; there was nothing new about this, yet. There was a 'situation' at the CIA every other hour, even if this situation required them coming in on their last evening off.

"What do you know about smart bullets?"

_Small disc shaped computer chips_  
><em>9mm handgun bullets<em>  
><em>Video clip of a woman firing a gun, and the bullet swerving around the corner and hitting a man between his eyes.<em>  
><em>CIA order: Smart Bullets authorized for limited distribution to trained Agents.<em>

Chuck blinked rapidly as he came out of the flash, wincing as the final frame of the video—a man with a clean round bullet hole at the top of his nose, between his eyes—was burned into his memory.

"Agent Carmichael?" the Director asked, solicitously watching as Chuck flashed.

"Umm, yea. Small computer chips that can be attached to the back of a bullet, effectively acting as a homing device. They were recently authorized for limited release by R&D, and there was a video of a woman firing one. I'm guessing she's an Agent?"

Sarah took in the slack jawed expression on the Director's face when Chuck relayed the flash to him. "Is that the first time you've seen a flash, Director?"

"A flash?"

"Yes, that's what we call a… um… well, a flash… thing."

"Smooth, Chuck," Sarah smirked, before snapping back to attention when the Director cleared his throat.

"No, that is my first 'flash,' " the Director replied with a small smile. "Your analysis is mostly correct, Agent Carmichael. Except the woman is not a CIA Agent, that is, if you are referring to who I think you are referring."

"Tall, blonde," Chuck trailed off leaving the rest unsaid. "_Supermodel-like. Sarah's gonna kill me, I'm fairly sure she can mind read._" Sure enough, Sarah turned and narrowed her eyes, giving him a deadly, "_we'll discuss this later,_" look.

"Yes, that is Sophia Stephenova. She obtained a batch of the first version of smart bullets, we don't know how, and was captured on film, testing them on an Agent that the NSA sent to tail her," he nodded at Chuck, indicated that that was what he had witnessed in the video clip. "She also has known connections to the arms trading syndicate you were investigating, Agent Walker."

"And what does this have to do with what's happened now, Director?"

"Well, as Chuck informed us, the smart bullets were recently authorized for limited use. Earlier today, we lost contact with a transport carrying a small batch to the Washington field office. They were planning to test them, before considering ordering more."

"So you want us to find the transport?" Chuck asked.

"An NSA satellite found the transport, abandoned at the side of Massachusetts Avenue in Washington. I need you to locate the bullets. The container that they were stored in has a homing beacon, we've narrowed the search field down to residential areas of Washington, but we need people on the ground for a more precise location."

Sarah frowned as he said this. This could be done by anybody. "_Am I being punished for something?_"

"No, Agent Walker. You are not being punished," the Director replied to her unspoken thoughts, eliciting a rare look of surprise on her face. Well, rare for anyone except Chuck, who surprised her practically every day. "I need you two to do this because, given the two major security breaches, I'm inclined to believe we have a mole, and I need Agents I can fully rely upon."

"And that's us?" Sarah asked, with an unsure frown still adorning her face.

"The General says you're the best, and from what I've seen, I'm inclined to agree."

_~Author's Note~_

**Okay, two things. First, please bear in mind that I have never shot a gun in my life; since it is, on the whole, illegal to do so in the UK. This means I have no idea how accurate, or otherwise, Casey's scene was. Secondly, whilst killing Shaw has its own merits, that's not the (sole) reason I did that scene. I did it because it would be what the CIA, as portrayed in Chuck canon, would have done. I chose to write out the full scene because it allowed me to show some emotion on Casey's part; it's not often we get to see him when he is alone.**

**So, please review this; I really want to hear your thoughts on that. Also, I really do love reading your reviews, I post these chapters at night here in the UK, and it's the best feeling in the world to wake to reviews that people have written :).**


	10. Chuck vs the Old Friends Chapter 2

**Chuck vs. the Old Friends—Chapter 2**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"Chuck. What are you doing?"

"It's the pizza," Chuck mumbled through his full mouth. "I didn't want it to go to waste."

"When did you get it?" Sarah asked quizzically, turning to face him and bunching her face into a frown that was just barely visible in the residual street lighting that managed to make its way into the suburban through the tinted windows. "We never went back to the apartment."

"I may have kept it in the Porsche while we were talking to Graham," he admitted sheepishly.

Sarah narrowed her eyes in reply. "You're lucky I love you, you know. If it was anyone else who had just admitted to taking food into my car, they would rolling down the sidewalk with a few broken bones right now."

"That's both incredibly hot, and horribly terrifying at the same time."

Sarah turned again and raised her eyebrow at him, stopping the SUV at the red traffic light. "Urgh. Remind me why we didn't bring the Porsche?" she lamented as the whole car rolled forward on its front suspension.

"Williams said it would be too conspicuous," Chuck replied, recalling her deadly expression when the Director had suggested—that is, ordered—that she take the black CIA issue Chevy Tahoe rather than her beloved Porsche.

Sarah snorted, swinging the Tahoe left onto 29th Street. "Because a black, tinted suburban doesn't scream 'federal agent.' " As the suburban drifted over the crosswalk, the tracker, mounted onto the Sat Nav which was displaying the route of the search pattern Chuck designed, began to steadily beep.

"We're close," Chuck said, sitting up in his seat and fiddling which the dial on the tracker. "I've increased the scanning resolution. It should track the chips down to the nearest five metres or so now." Sarah leaned across and kissed him on the cheek as he leaned back in his chair, eliciting a small squeak of surprise and an inquiring glance.

"What? You find it hot when I'm 'badass,' " she said 'badass' whilst making air quotes with one hand, "I find it hot when you're all nerdy like that."

"Really? Nerdy and hot aren't usually synonymous."

She grinned devilishly, and her hand began to drift over from the gearshift. "Do you want me to prove it to you?" Chuck spluttered, and mumbled something about 'road safety' and 'fiery deaths,' before Sarah pouted and retracted her hand. "I'll just have to show you later then."

Chuck laughed, as the beeping of the tracker became louder and more rapid, "I look forward to it. And we're here too,' he added, as Sarah pulled up outside an apartment complex.

"Let's go," she said, jumping out of the car and grabbing her gun.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck decided he agreed with Sarah, as they walked along the apartment building corridor in amicable silence, the only noise being the steady beeping of the tracker; and that was being piped through earpieces directly into Chuck's ears. He didn't really know why the CIA wanted their agents to be dressed in a black suit, with a black tie, and black sunglasses; the get up screamed 'Secret Agent'; there wasn't really anything inconspicuous about it. Still, he mused as he paused at the door to the apartment and Sarah reached out to knock, it gave him the air of authority he would be needed to search the place. The door swung open at Sarah's knock, revealing a pretty brunette with wide brown eyes, whose flirtatious smile dropped when she saw the man standing at her door.

"Chuck?"

Chuck's jaw had dropped into a small O when the door was opened, and had remained there since then. Composing himself, he managed to splutter, "H― Hannah?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" To be honest, he was expecting to hear that venom in her voice the instant he saw her pull open the door, he wasn't expecting the sudden stinging sensation on his left cheek, however.

Sarah reacted swiftly to Hannah's slap, pulling Chuck away, and warning Hannah to stay put with a fiery look; ensuring the livid brunette got a full view of the silver Smith & Wesson tucked into a holster inside her black blazer. Tenderly, she lifted her hand to touch Chuck's cheek, and he flinched slightly as her fingers brushed over the raw skin. "It's going to bruise," she said with a sigh.

"Sarah, I can't do this," Chuck replied in a frantic whisper. "She thinks I used her for—"

"Chuck," Sarah cut him off calmly, her hand still on his cheek. "It's going to be fine. You look for the chips, I'll guard Hannah."

Chuck blinked a few times, and turned back to where Hannah was standing, staring at him with a clenched jaw and hurt evident in her eyes. "Okay. Okay, but you do all the talking," he looked at Sarah with a slight pleading expression.

"Fine," she smiled at him gently, to reassure him. "Out of interest, what exactly happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Chuck responded sharply, before sighing and softening his tone when Sarah frowned and sharply withdrew her hand. "Not now, I'll tell you once this is over, okay?"

She sighed and nodded quickly, remembering that Hannah was watching them so she couldn't really do anything more, she probably shouldn't have even stroked his cheek. Schooling her expression back into 'Agent mode,' she walked back over to Hannah, pulling out her CIA-issued FBI credentials and badge. "Special Agent Walker, FBI," she began sharply. "If you lay another hand on Agent Carmichael—"

"Agent _Carmichael_?" Hannah interjected incredulously.

"I will arrest you for assaulting a police officer," Sarah plowed on, disregarding the interruption. It was best to remain wholly professional in these situations; to execute the mission by the book. "We need to search this apartment, can you move to the side, Miss…"

"Hannah Smith. And no."

"It was not a request, Miss Smith," Sarah replied with a little more force.

"Do you have a warrant?" she snapped, hissing through her teeth.

"Yes," Sarah replied, pulling out the fake warrant the Director had given to them, which basically stated that they could search any place that might be 'suspicious'.

"So my apartment is 'suspicious?' What is it about _my_ apartment?"

Sarah smiled grimly. "That's classified."

She half-sighed and half-growled in defeat, before moving back into the apartment and holding the door open for them.

Sarah walked towards the apartment, with Chuck following her, trying to avoid eye contact with Hannah. Striding into the it, she immediately began to catalogue the room, its various cover points, exits, windows; anything that could give them an advantage if Hell decided to descend upon them. It was a small place, clearly designed for only one person; there was a window opposite the door which would have been good for a quick getaway, if they weren't on the fourth floor (she had no intention of adding to Chuck's track record of jumping off of buildings). In front of the window was the kitchenette, on the left side of the room. The two counters—one backed onto the wall, and one just in front of that—looked to be fairly sturdy, they would be good for cover. Chuck unplugged the tracking device from the earphones, and a continuous beeping rung out through the room. He fiddled with a few dials on it, lowering the volume, and changing the beeps so that they were much slower and distinct.

"It's definitely in here," he said in a hushed whisper to Sarah. "It'll track down to a few centimetres now."

"What's here?" Hannah asked, jerking her head up sharply and looking at Sarah, using her as a conduit through which she could communicate with Chuck.

"Classified," Sarah replied with an air of finality, as Hannah rolled her eyes, huffed, and fell down into the couch in front of the TV, which was opposite the kitchenette. "Chuck, you go look for it, I'll stay here."

Chuck nodded in reply, and padded down a short corridor to the left of the door, his head held down, looking intently at the screen of the tracker. Hannah waited for a few moments, until she thought he was out of earshot, before opening her mouth. She saw Sarah's scowl as she stood up, watching over Hannah from next to the wall-mounted TV, and promptly shut it again, before opening it again; somewhat like a goldfish.

"What?" Sarah said sharply, looking at Hannah pointedly.

"Chuck works for the FBI?"

"Something like that." It wasn't a lie, exactly; the CIA was _something_ like the FBI (except CIA didn't stand for famous but incompetent).

"You know he used me for se—"

Sarah interrupted her with a deadly glare, that would send many people running for the hills with damp trousers. "I'm sure that, whatever he did, he has a very good reason for it."

"Was I just a mission then?"

"I don't know," she replied curtly; this was becoming annoying, fast, so she was grateful when Chuck came running back down the corridor, clutching a black leather case in one hand, and the tracker in the other. She frowned when she saw the apprehensive look on his face. "Chuck? Did you get it?"

"Yea," he murmured, holding up the black case. "But we have a problem."

"A problem?"

"The tracker detects other trackers, and it says that there is another tracker moving towards us."

"The people who stole it—"

"Are coming back to pick it up."

Sarah looked at Chuck for a split second, and caught his subtle nod before turning to Hannah. "We need to go. Now."

She looked at Sarah defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere."

Sarah sighed, and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. "Look. I can either arrest you now, for the illegal possession of classified Government technology, or you can come with us as a witness."

Hannah just stayed firmly put, leaning back into the couch.

Chuck looked at her for a second, worry lacing his features. "Hannah. There are some very, _very_ bad people on their way here, right now. And I don't know whether or not you're involved with them or not, and I don't care, because either way, they'll kill you, and then both of us."

Hannah's eyes flickered over him, and her face softened slightly, before she blew out some air between her teeth and began to stand up.

"Do you have a car?" Sarah asked, hoping that she had one parked somewhere other than the front of the building.

"Yea. There's one parked in the garages at the back."

Then they ran, straight out of Hannah's apartment, not bothering to lock it—she would never be cooming back here anyway—and along the corridor to the long winding staircase that doubled as a fire escape. At the bottom, Chuck pulled out the tracker, and panicked slightly.

"They're here! Oh god! Oh god!" Okay, maybe a bit more than slightly.

"Chuck," Sarah responded firmly. "Calm down."

He nodded mutely.

"Where are they?"

"They've just turned onto this road."

"Okay then. Let's get to the car then. Hannah?" She looked expectantly at Hannah, who began to lead the way towards the car park. "Chuck," she looked at him, standing there slightly spaced out. Flicking her eyes back, she saw Hannah watching them expectantly. "_Screw it._" She pulled him in for a quick, reassuring kiss, placing her hands on the sides of his face, taking care not to put too much pressure on his bruised cheek. "Chuck, come on. It'll be fine." She smiled a crooked smile at him, and he nodded in reply. Turning, Sarah saw Hannah staring at them, her mouth slightly agape at the kiss, and rolled her eyes. "Let's move Hannah," she urged, ushering with her hands, and waving them towards her.

The journey was silent. Well, actually, silent was an understatement. The air was thick with non-sound, as Chuck rode shotgun in Hannah's car; Sarah swore she could cut through the air with one of her knives, given the strength of the tension that was strung out between him, and Hannah in the back. It made the silent night outside feel positively defeaning. Chuck had insisted that she not handcuff Hannah, and she smiled inwardly as she remembered how vehemently he argued the point. It was one of the many things she loved about him: how he could remain so trusting after being thrust headlong into a world of lies and deceit. She couldn't manage it. She _didn't_ manage it. Until he came along, that was. They had settled into their current rhythm, of Sarah driving, and Chuck and Hannah sitting in disgustingly awkward silence, after they managed to escape from her apartment complex. The 'bad guys' (she didn't know _who_ they were, yet) had pulled up in a blue sedan, just as Sarah had floored it out of Hannah's garage and out onto the road, in front of the them, and the CIA SUV.

As she drove off the freeway, onto Dolly Mason Boulevard, Hannah suddenly sat up straighter in the back seat, and pressed her face to the window. "This isn't the way to the FBI office," she stated slowly, with a frown.

"We're not going to the FBI office," Sarah replied matter of factly.

"Then where—"

"Langley."

"Langley? But then… you must be…" she paused, waiting for the full effect of the next three letters to strike her. "You're CIA?"

Sarah didn't comment on that. In fact, she showed absolutely no emotion, and indicated that Chuck should do the same.

**|CHUCK|**

"Chuck, what happened?" Sarah asked, once they were back at their apartment, snuggled up on the couch, as the late night TV babbled on in the background. The Director had told them not to bother going to sleep, since the it wouldn't take long for the CCTV footage to pick up the 'bad guys'.

"Whaddya mean?" he yawned sleepily.

"Back at Hannah's building, at the bottom of those stairs. You just sort of, froze up." She looked up at him from her position in his lap, with her head resting on his chest (as usual).

"Oh," he said, looking blankly at the TV.

"Chuck?"

He sighed lightly, and stroked her hair with a pensive expression. "I just—I broke up with her to keep her _away_ from all this. But it just keeps interfereing. First Jill, then Dad, now this. It just sort hit me there, that she might actually have assisted treason. Her. Hannah. A traitor."

"Chuck," she began tentatively. "Can I ask you a question?"

Chuck frowned, "do you really need to ask my permission?"

She smiled. "And please don't get mad."

He squeezed her gently to indicate that she should carry on.

"What would have happened, to us, if you hadn't broken up with Hannah?"

Chuck, to her surprise, smiled. It was almost like he was expecting it. "There were actually two reasons I broke up with her."

Now it was Sarah's turn to frown.

"First. After the museum thing, I didn't want to keep putting her in danger, and then having to lie to her about how close to dying she came."

Sarah nodded.

"And second," he began, taking a breath, "I realised that only one person would ever make me truly happy." He looked at her, and pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "You."

"And why is that?"

Chuck quirked an eyebrow. "Do I really need to answer that?"

Sarah shrugged.

"Because I love you, Sarah Walker. Always have, and always will."

She grinned. "I love you too, Chuck." She leaned in, and kissed him. Soon the kiss escalated beyond making out, and they both made full advantage of living alone, throwing clothes around everywhere. Sarah was fairly sure the people in apartments below and above could hear her moaning, but she didn't particularly care.

"You know," Chuck said as they were lying on their bed (he didn't know how they got there), naked. "That's what I was trying to tell you before the General interrupted."

She twisted around to face him. "About Hannah?"

"Not specifically, but Ellie said that we should go through some of this stuff."

" 'This stuff?' "

"You know. All the stuff we've been through. The 49B, Cole, Shaw, Hannah, Lou," he paused, and stroked her back for a moment before continuing in the smallest of voices. "Prague."

Sarah kissed him softly, wiping the single tear from his eye. "Hey. Come on, I'd forgiven you for that a long, long time ago."

He kissed her back, and smiled. "But I still think we should talk about it."

"I think so too."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

"Yes. But not right now." She snuggled up closer to him, and buried her face in the crook of his neck as they drifted off to sleep, the Director's orders long forgotten.


	11. Chuck vs the Old Friends Chapter 3

**Chuck vs. the Old Friends—Chapter 3**

**Re: sdm - define cry-ie? Sarah's only cried once so far, I think?**

**There's some stuff in this chapter that's a bit different, and I really want to know how you feel about Chuck and Sarah's conversations, and Chuck and Hannah's. I'm not _really_ sure if it's a bit OOC or not...**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Sarah stared grumpily at the small mirror inside the car visor, running her hand through her hair.

"Sarah, come on, the Director's waiting, and we're already late."

She just huffed.

"Sarah, you look beautiful. Let's go."

"This is your fault, you know," she said, turning to him.

"How is this my fault?" Chuck replied, a nonplussed frown on his face.

"If you weren't so damn' sweet, we wouldn't have ended up rolling around on the floor. And then on the bed. And my hair wouldn't have been trapped under you. And it wouldn't be all horrible and creased like it is now."

"In that case," Chuck began with all the solemnity he could muster. "I am truly sorry. I promise never to do that again."

"You'll promise no such thing," she countered, before continuing with a slight smirk. "We're doing that every night from now on, come hell or high water."

"Yes ma'am," Chuck replied, grinning, as Sarah turned back to the mirror and puffed a stray lock out of her face. "Sarah," he began again, reaching over and tucking said lock behind her ear. "Really, you look beautiful, and I'm sure the Director won't be paying any attention to how you look anyway."

Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, of course he'll notice," Chuck began to bumble, blushing slightly. "Who wouldn't. I mean, you kind of light up the whole room with that whole 'I'm a super-awesome spy ninja' thing—"

"Chuck."

"Yea?"

"You're rambling."

"Sry," he eked out between his sealed lips.

She laughed, lighting up the entire car (or the whole block, or city, or country). "Don't be, it's sweet."

"Yay," he replied with meek sarcasm. "I'm 'sweet.'"

Snorting, Sarah leaned over and slapped him lightly on the chest. "Come on, Williams is waiting," she said with a smirk, before hopping out of the car and walking towards the main entrance of Langley.

"Hey!" Chuck called after her, stumbling out of the Porsche.

**|CHUCK|**

"Agents," the Director acknowledged them with a tilt of his head as they walked towards him, standing in front of a pane of one-way glass, looking into a room. "Nice of you to show up."

"Sorry, Director," Sarah said, with a furtive glance at Chuck. "We got held up."

"I don't want to know," he stated simply. "Because Agent Walker didn't arrest Miss Smith; she's a _witness_," he continued matter of factly, with a slight tinge of despair, as if wondering why Sarah didn't simply arrest her. "We've waited until now to interview her. She's just woken up," he added, nodding towards the window.

"Who's conducting the interview?" she asked.

"Well, since Agent Carmichael has a history with Miss Smith, I think it would be best if you do it, Agent Walker. I'm still worried about the possibility of a mole, so keep it quiet."

Chuck squeaked. "Why wouldn't it be quiet?"

The Director didn't reply, and simply walked off, so Chuck turned to Sarah, fear lacing his face.

"Relax, Chuck. I'm not going to hurt her." Chuck sighed and smiled at Sarah as she made her way across to the door into the interrogation room.

The room was pretty much identical to the one they had held Bryce in, after he magically reappeared, except the white bed was replaced with two metal chairs that were bolted to the floor, and a metal table, also bolted to the floor. Chuck peered through the glass, watching as Sarah slowly and deliberately strode into the room, and sat down opposite Hannah.

"Miss Smith," Chuck heard her begin over the two loudspeakers placed above the glass pane. "You were found in possession of classified Government technology. How did you obtain it?"

"What?" she replied, causing Sarah to cock an eyebrow. "No, 'you have the right to remain silent' or anything?"

Chuck watched Sarah take a deep breath. "Miss Smith, let me be perfectly clear with you. We don't have to treat you this well." Hannah scoffed. "We can arrest you and suspend your First, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Eighth Amendment rights at any time," Sarah paused for a beat, before continuing. "So, I'll ask you again. How did you obtain classified Government technology?"

"Is Chuck watching this?"

This time Sarah just sat silently opposite her; her poker face so perfect, she could beat Jonathan Duhamel at a game of five card. "Answer the question, Miss Smith."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Sarah watched her for a moment, clearly (clear to Chuck anyway) trying to figure out if she was telling the truth. "So, you're saying that the technology simply appeared in your handbag?"

"I'd like a lawyer."

Sarah grimaced, and lifted her hand to her earpiece, presumably to call for some agents to arrest Hannah. However, just as she was about to begin talking, Chuck's pager went off and, from the look on her face, Sarah's had too. Chuck pulled his out from his pocket and looked down at the monochrome LCD display.

"_Abort Interview - Meet me at office - DOps_"

Before Chuck could react, Sarah was next to him, dragging him out of the interview room and up a flight of stairs.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck walked quickly into the Director's office, and noticed Casey sitting down in one of the seats. "Casey?" he said with a hint of surprise. "I thought you were 'executing a sanction.'"

Casey grunted in reply. "It doesn't take long to turn someone's head into a red mist, Bartowski."

Chuck blinked at that, before gingerly sitting down next to him, as if he were a bomb that might go off at any second. "That was... graphic," he said, as Sarah raised an eyebrow at him.

"Agents," the Director called out sharply, bidding them all into silence. "The situation with the smart bullets has escalated."

Sarah and Casey frowned. This didn't sound good. "Escalated?" Chuck queried.

"Some NSA analysts were reviewing CCTV footage of the people who interrupted your search," he began, with a nod at Chuck and Sarah. "One of them had the bright idea of watching Miss Smith's movements from the past day, and they found this." He paused, leaning down to his computer, and playing some CCTV footage of a man with floppy dark hair following a brunette woman. The man sped up, before stumbling into her and apologising. "As you can see, the woman is Miss Smith. Now, if I zoom into here," the Director pointed at Hannah's handbag, "watch." Chuck narrowed his eyes, as he watched the man slip a small leather case into Hannah's bag, just as he stumbled into her.

"Have we found out who that man is?" Sarah asked quickly.

"Yes, unfortunately," Williams replied, causing all three agents to frown.

"Unfortunately?"

"The man is Mr Ryker Johnson. He's an analyst in the logistics department."

"The mole," Sarah said with a slight intake of breath.

"Yes. His shift begins at 0900, in about an hour. You three are taking a full security team down to logistics to arrest him, and isolate the rest of his division."

Chuck frowned. "The _whole_ division?"

"The situation is extremely serious. Everyone who has had contact with Mr Johnson is a potential threat."

Chuck opened his mouth again, but Sarah cut him of, with a look that promised to answer his questions later. "What about Miss Smith?"

"I gather she denies knowing anything about the smart bullets?"

Sarah nodded.

"Let's get Mr Johnson and see what he says, then we can deal with Miss Smith. Depending on what happens."

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck could feel the stares of the analysts as he strode along the hallways of Langley; the air was thick with their tension as they peered out from their cubicles and offices to watch the column of ten agents make their way towards the logistics department. He mused that the fact he was accompanied by CIA ledgend Sarah Walker, and the gruff looking guy who could proably kill all of them with a single finger (Casey), didn't help. Chuck and Sarah strode up to the double doors leading into Ryker's division, and opened them both simultaneously without breaking step, Men in Black style.

The room was fairly large, with rows of cubicles branching out from a central column which Chuck, Sarah and Casey were walking down. Casey barked out an order, and the ten other agents began to split off, guarding the entrance to every other row. Sarah leaned over to Chuck and muttered, "the last row, number ten, on the left." Chuck nodded, and carried on walking, but Casey got there before him.

"Ryker Johnson!" he thundered, causing all of the already worried analysts to cower in their swivel chairs.

"Which one is Ryker Johnson?" Casey bellowed again. This time the heads of all the analysts slowly turned towards the man at the end of the row, who was silently, and frantically, typing on his computer.

Casey waded through all of the other analysts, stopping at Ryker's cubicle, his face contorted with rage. "You know what I hate more than stinking Commies?" he asked in a low growl, clenching his fist around Ryker's shirt and slowly lifting him up off the ground, as the other analysts watched in horror.

Ryker squeaked and frantically shook his head.

Casey pressed him up against the wall, a good three feet in the air. "Traitors," he spat, before dropping Ryker to the ground. There was a crunch as he fell on swivel chair, and the central piston snapped under the impact.

"Casey," Sarah demanded, as he leaned forward to pick Ryker up again. "Stop it."

Casey growled again, before pulling Ryker up to his feet and clasping some handcuffs over his hands, tightening them until Ryker whimpered slightly. "I'll take him down for interrogation," he barked, daring anyone to challenge him. When no one did, and Sarah tilted her head slightly, he stuffed Ryker's head into a black canvas bag and roughly dragged him out of the room.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck reached into his pocket to pull out his keys to Sarah's apartment. She was still at Langley, helping Casey to interrogate Ryker, and she had sent him home after he had painstakingly gone through every analyst in Ryker's division's files, looking for discrepancies and to see if would flash. He had just finished clearing every one of them when Sarah sent him a text telling him to ho home, because the interrogation would 'take a while,' and he 'didn't want to watch.' Chuck grimaced at the thought, as he turned the key in the lock and swung the door open, letting dim light drip out into the hallway.

His jaw unhinged slightly as he took in the sight before him. In the middle of the apartment, was a table, with a single rose in the center. There were candles lining the kitchen worktop, as well as on the shelves next to the bedroom door, and the main lights were dimmed. His eyes drifted over the bedroom, noticing that there were a few petals scattered around, before settling on the centrepiece of the room: Sarah.

She sauntered over to him, smiling happily at his expression, and dressed in a low cut black dress. "Do you like it?" she asked quietly, after pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Like it?" Chuck softly exclaimed. "Sarah, this..." he waved his hand around the room, "amazing doesn't even begin to describe it." He pulled her back in for a long kiss, wrapping his arms around her. "I love you," he said seriously, after he had pulled back.

"I love you to," she replied, smiling and pulling him into the apartment, closing the door behind them.

"But Sarah, why..." He left the end of the question hanging as he continues to gaze around the beautifully romantic setting.

She sighed slightly, smiling gently. "I know it's been hard for you, with me out on missions, and then our fight," Chuck's face fell slightly, "and then with Hannah. So I wanted to do something for you," she finished shyly.

"But, when?"

"Ryker cracked within seconds of Casey bringing out his pliers," she replied, before quickly adding, "he wasn't going to use them," in reply to Chuck's horrified look. "So, Casey said he'd finish up with Hannah, and I came here. I sent you that text just as the food finished cooking."

"Wow," was all Chuck could manage.

"And I though, maybe, we could do some of that talking later?"

Chuck smiled at that. _She_ wanted to talk.

"Let's eat first though, the food's getting cold."

"Careful Sarah, you're turning into a real girl."

Her face lit up at his comment, when she remembered the last time he had said that, and what had followed in the car later. "Shut up and sit down," she replied playfully, feeling slightly giddy.

**|CHUCK|**

"So," Sarah said, cuddling next to Chuck on the couch after clearing away the remnants of her chocolate souffle, "what do you want to talk about?"

He looked down at her. "We've been through a lot, Sarah," he began, and she nodded. "And I think we should talk about it, rather than ignoring it."

"Well, where do you want to start?" she asked, before adding with a chuckle, "there's a lot to get through."

He smiled nervously at her. "Why do you love me?"

She blinked. That was unexpected. "Chuck..."

"I mean, look at me," he pointed at himself, "and look at you. You could have picked anyone, I'm not particularly special."

She smiled sadly at him. "That's where you're wrong, Chuck. You're so, so special. You spent all of your first government paycheque on saving your sister's wedding."

"It's just what any - "

"No, it's not Chuck. You downloaded the 2.0, destroying your own chance at freedom, to save other people. You're so special, but most of all, you see _me_. Not this," she waved at her body, "but _me_. You noticed little things. You know Bryce, in two years of being partners, never once remembered that I don't like olives. That's why I love you Chuck." She finished, and looked at him expectantly.

Chuck looked over at her, his eyes full of love. During her soliloquy she had shifted over, so she was sitting next to him, rather than on him. "That was, wow, Sarah." He kissed her hard, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. "But what about Bryce, and Shaw?"

Her face fell, and she looked down at her hands.

"Hey," he said, tilting her chin back up, "you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

She sighed. "No, Chuck. We need to talk about it. Bryce was... he was someone to let off some steam with," Chuck raised an eyebrow. "I never loved Bryce," she clarified. "As for Shaw..." She trailed off and looked back down at her hands. "After what happened at Prague... I guess I never realised how much I depended on talking to you."

Chuck frowned. "But you never really talked much..."

"I know it feels like that to you, Chuck, but I opened up to you a lot more than I ever had done before, and after Prague I lost that. But I still needed it. Shaw was... convenient."

"I'm sorry," Chuck responded, now looking down at his hands.

"For what?"

"For leaving you in Prague, I should have never done that, it was stupid. You'll always come first, Sarah."

She kissed him softly. "It's fine Chuck. You know Carina showed me the tape of your speech in that vault."

Chuck looked up sharply. "She did?"

Sarah smiled. "Yep."

As if on cue, both their phones pinged with messages from Casey.

"_Miss Smith's been cleared, she's being taken into WITSEC tonight. If Chuck wants to talk to her, he's got an hour._"

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck's hands shook slightly as he pushed open the door to the interview room Hannah was sitting in. He quickly wiped the thin sheen of perspiration from his forehead as he poked his head into the room, to see Hannah sitting at the chair. Her head snapped up as he walked in, and she looked at him coldly. "Chuck."

Chuck blinked a few times, swinging his arms by his sides. "Um, you're cleared by the way," he bumbled. "You're being taken into witness protection."

Hannah just looked at him impassively.

Chuck took.a breath. "Hannah, look. I'm here to apologise."

She snorted.

"I'm sorry, I really am. I was such a massive jerk, I dumped you in front of your parents, and I - "

"You used me."

"I broke up with you because you were in constant danger around me. In the museum, you came this close to dying, and the worst part was I had to lie to you about it."

She just looked at him, and his phone beeped. It was Casey.

Chuck sighed, "the Marshals are here. Witness protection is pretty watertight, I'll never see you again, and you deserve to know what happened."

Hannah's face softened every so slightly, just as three U.S. Marshals came into the room. They indicated that she should stand up and follow them, and they lead her out of the room in complete silence, with Chuck following. Sarah was waiting outside, and she leaned into him as they watched Hannah walk away for the last time.

_~"How does one know if she has forgiven? You tend to feel sorrow over the circumstance instead of rage, you tend to feel sorry for the person rather than angry with him. You tend to have nothing left to say about it all." —Clarissa Pinkola Estes~_

**First, Casey's political views, or any of the views of any of the characters do not represent my own personal views. For example, I would never refer to anyone as a 'stinking commie'.**

**So, some of you may already know that I'm currently collaborating with LongLiveChuck on a few of his stories. I'm a massive fan of LLC's work, and I'm really excited about this; it'll mean everyone gets to enjoy more of these awesome fics. _Best Laid Plans_ shouldn't be affected in any way by this, and I intend to carry on updating it at the same rate as I have been doing.**

**[1] Jonathan Duhamel was the 2010 World Series of Poker champion.**

**[2] For those of you who haven't read my one shot, _Lyin' Eyes_, the thing at the end of the second to last scene is a reference to that.**

Next time on Best Laid Plans:

Chuck's making secret plans with Morgan, now what could that be about? Meanwhile, Sarah finally manages to infiltrate the arms dealing syndicate she's been investigating, and Chuck stumbles upon an interesting secret hidden in those SIS files.


	12. C&S vs the Third Omaha Part II Chapter 1

**Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 1**

**This chapter is dedicated to LongLiveChuck, he's an awesome writer and I hope he recovers soon :).**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"So," Chuck said, sitting on the couch next to Sarah as she earnestly told him about Cole, "that's all that happened?"

Sarah looked away from him, out towards the window where the pattering rain obscured the shimmering lights of Washington at night behind a curtain of rolling water. She blinked a few times as Chuck looked intently at the side of her face, a worried frown on his own.

"Sarah," he began, reaching over with his hand and touching her arm.

"Then you," she paused choking on her words slightly, before continuing, "um, you broke up with me." She stopped for a moment, before lilting her to one side in faux amusement with a heart wrenching chuckle. "Well, fake broke up. Again."

Chuck slid along the couch, so that he was pressed up against her side, and turned her face to look at him. "Sarah, I—"

She cut him off with a soft kiss, and pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around him. They stayed like that for a while, before Sarah spoke, not moving her head from his shoulder. "I know it was my fault—"

"Sarah—" Chuck interrupted.

"No, Chuck, it was. I pushed you away. I was scared. I told you there was no chance for us," she paused for a second, before continuing a small whisper, "but it didn't make it any easier. Those tears weren't fake, the first time it happened, you know. You said you were fooling yourself, but so was I. I was pretending, hoping, _believing_ even, that the cover was real, and it was killing me to have to do what I did." She squeezed him even tighter, "I'm so sorry."

"The tears were real?" Chuck asked th a frown, pulling out of the hug and looking at her.

She looked at him with her big, bright blue eyes and nodded.

"But, then, with the truth serum—" he stammered.

"I lied," she said simply cocking her head to one side.

"You lied?" She nodded. "Whilst under the influence of a _truth_ serum?" Another nod. He raised his eyebrow in response and wrapped her up in his arms, "you, Sarah Walker, are an enigma."

She simply sighed and buried her head into his shoulder. Of course, this was the moment the phone chose to ring.

"Urgh, it's Beckman," Chuck groaned, reaching over to his phone that was on the coffee table. "She wants you," Chuck he added once he had picked it up.

"Yes, General?" Sarah mumbled into the phone in a groggy voice. Chuck watched her as she was talking to the General; her golden hair, still disheveled from their embrace, falling down over her slightly red and tired eyes as she spoke in Casey-esque monosyllabic grunts to Beckman. "Now?" she exclaimed after a while, her eyes snapping open and all hints of tiredness disappearing. With a sigh, she put the phone down, and smiled tentatively at Chuck.

"What's up?"

"The analysts at Fort Meade have found the new weapons factory in Ukraine," she replied, trailing off.

"And..."

"Beckman wants me to head out there now, with Casey, before they find out we've traced them." Chuck's face fell, and he averted his eyes down towards the floor, but she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips before he could get up. "I know," she whispered, "I'll be back soon," she finished with a small smile.

He looked back up at her, getting up from the sofa and pulling her up with him, "I know, I'm sorry. Let's go down to the airport."

**|CHUCK|**

Sarah sat next to Casey in silence, reading through the brief Beckman had faxed to them soon after the plane had taken off. The factory they were currently watching was on the outskirts of Kharkiv, and as Sarah looked out of the windscreen of the the surveillance van, she saw a column of five trucks leave the building, which was currently bathed in a glow of yellow flood lighting. NSA satellites had tracked similar convoys of trucks to known weapons trading conventions, including the infamous WEAPCON, but they still didn't have any proof it was participating in illegal activities. "How do you want to do this?" she asked, turning to Casey.

"We need to get some proof that they're doing something illegal."

"So, we need to go in undercover and try to get some intel? That's going to take a long time, Casey."

"Or you could just sedu—"

"No," Sarah cut him off sharply, "don't even think about it. We'll do it the long way."

Casey grunted. "We don't need to do a long term cover op, we just need some intel from some computers, a few snaps of their 'produce', and we can be out of this commie hell hole."

"Why don't we try going in as government inspectors tomorrow, see if we can download anything and send it to Chuck?" she replied with a sigh.

Casey grunted again, and sat back in his seat, watching the five trucks trundle past, with their brown tarpaulin sheets flapping in the nighttime breeze as their headlights swept across the potholed, uneven road. "What's up with you, Walker?" he said after a while.

Sarah jerked her head up. "Nothing, Casey. I just want to get this over with, this mission's been dragging on for far too long."

Casey grunted, again. "It's not like you to be so anxious to get a mission over. I remember stories of a wildcard enforcer who went for two years straight without taking a vacation..."

Sarah sat up ramrod straight, and looked straight ahead, out at the factory. "I'm not Langston Graham's wildcard enforcer anymore, Casey. I have a life now."

Another grunt.

**|CHUCK|**

_TOP SECRET - CODEWORD OMAHA - UKUSA ONLY  
><em>_Inter-Agency Report on Initial Safety Testing (I.S.T.) of the INTERSECT in preparation for limited trials with live Agents: June 1990_

_Section I - Introduction  
><em>'_Project Omaha' is the development, testing and deployment of the Inter-Neural Transient Exchange Relay for the Systemic Expedition of Cross-agency Transfer (INTERSECT). The INTERSECT was originally designed by the United States of America's (U.S.A.) Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.) analysts codenames 'Orion' and 'Pegasus' (ORPEG), and was created to streamline the interaction of the four main intelligence gathering bodies of the UKUSA group (see UKUSA Agreement, #SUKUSA/1/0/0); the United Kingdom's (U.K.) Secret Intelligence Service (S.I.S.) and Government Communications Headquarters (G.C.H.Q.), and the United States of America's (U.S.A.) Central Intelligence Agency (C.I.A.) and National Security Agency (N.S.A.)._

Chuck's eyes glazed over the first paragraph of the document. Having already read the contents page (and Beckman's cover letter, explaining that the delay in delivery was due to his intervention in the Logistics Department), he knew that there were detailed schematics of this Intersect—which he presumed was the 1.0—in the report. What he was trying to find was the reason that the entire package, which seemed as if it contained all of the SIS's records of its involvement in Project Omaha, was sealed and redacted. Placing the first report back down on his desk, he looked over at the bulging brown envelope that contained three other, thick, documents. One of them had to have the answers he was looking for, right?

At least the unexpected arrival of an envelope so large the security team ran a full X-ray analysis on it to ensure it wasn't some sort of letter bomb had kept his mind off of the point that Sarah was not here. Mostly. He looked up at the monitor on the wall to his left, were a small red dot showed him that she was sitting in a van just on the outskirts of Kharkiv, outside a factory; presumably where the illegal weapons were being traded. It wasn't weird that he was watching her, was it? He decided it wasn't, since he was a member of the team. How could he be expected to provide remote backup if he didn't know where they were? Suddenly, the blip began to move away from the factory and back onto the main road. She was heading back to the hotel. With a sigh, he looked back down at the desk and picked up the first report again, and began to read through the rest of the introduction. One section down, he didn't even want to try to count how many were left.

_~Author's Note~_

**I'm sorry this took so long. Essentially, these next few chapters are quite important in terms of plot development and I wanted to make sure that I got it right.**

**Secondly, just to quickly clear something up… In the "Next Time On" thing, I mean in the next 'episode,' which is next the next _three_ chapters. I should have probably made that more clear, sorry :).**

**Thirdly, because I'm a huge nerd, I've actually written that report out in full (well, the first section is done, the rest in in progress), and I can upload it if you guys want me to...**

**Finally, I have twitter: QuantumGautam. This is my personal twitter account, and probably won't have any writing related tweets (though it may have Chuck related tweets). However, do follow me if you want to, or drop me a DM.**


	13. C&S vs the Third Omaha Part II Chapter 2

**Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 2**

**So, I changed the title. The old title was referring to something which I have now cut out.**

**On another note, LLC, myself, and a couple of other authors are doing a big multi-author story. If anyone is interested in helping in any way, send me or LLC a PM :). **

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"Four dates, huh?" Chuck said with a laugh into his phone.

"I know, it feels weird. There's a girl that wants to go out with me," Morgan replied. "Not only that, _she_ called _me_!"

"So I'm guessing it went well with Casey then?"

"Well, he didn't kill me, so that's a start…" he trailed off unsurely.

"That's an improvement from previous encounters then," Chuck laughed, before dropping his voice into a more serious tone, "Morgan, I need to—"

"Ellie wants to talk to you buddy," Morgan interrupted.

"Chuck?" Ellie's voice came through after a moment of rustling.

"Hey, El," Chuck replied, internally awash with relief that he hadn't blurted out what he was going to say _after_ Morgan had handed Ellie the phone, "How's it going?"

"Good, Chuck."

"How's the baby?"

Ellie snorted. "Chuck, the 'baby' is less than the size of a walnut, and it's barely been a week since you've seen me, so I've only just finished my—"

"First month," Chuck finished.

"Yes. How's it going with Sarah?" she asked, with a slightly less levity.

"Great, Sis. We've been talking more, like you said, and it's going really well."

"Have you talked to her about the Morgan thing yet?"

"No," he replied, chuckling at the sound of Morgan's muffled "stop talking about me!" in the background. "We're getting there though."

"That's great Chuck," she said, as Chuck could hear her smile through the phone. "I'm really happy for you guys."

"Thanks, El," Chuck responded with a weary sigh.

"She's not in D.C. now, is she?"

"No, how did you know?"

"You sound depressed."

"I'm not depressed!" Chuck protested. "Okay, maybe I'm a little down," he relented when guessed she had raised her eyebrow at him from the other side of the country.

"Just a little," Ellie chuckled in reply. "She'll be back soon Chuck, I'm sure she's missing you as much as you're missing her."

"Thanks El. Could you give it back to Morgan for a sec?"

Chuck listened idly to the sound of the phone being passed to Morgan, as the sound of the treadmill whirring up to speed seeped through from the background.

"Ya Chuck?"

"Is Ellie there?"

"Not within earshot," he replied.

"Okay, I just wanted to give you a quick heads up—"

"Yea?"

"I'm thinking of proposing to Sarah," Chuck finished. "Morgan? Morgan?"

"Wow."

"I know buddy, just don't tell ANYONE, especially Ellie."

"Yea, yea, of course buddy. But wow, Chuck. Congratulations."

"I haven't even asked her yet Morgan," Chuck replied with a laugh.

"I know, but still…"

Chuck sighed. "I know buddy," he replied, just as the Skype ring tone began to blare out from is PC speakers. "Sorry, Morg, I've got to go. Remeber: don't tell anyone!" Chuck smiled when all he got was a 'huh' in response, and put down the phone. Still grinning like a Cheshire cat, he accepted the Skype call, and watched as the secure link to Casey and Sarah's comm link was set up. He'd been thinking about proposing for a while now; hell, he'd have proposed to her after their first date if the Government hadn't so rudely interrupted; but telling Morgan he was actually going to do it was entirely different, now it wasn't some hare-brained scheme of his, but something that could actually happen (because telling something to Morgan naturally meant it _always_ happened). He was shaken from his thoughts by the voice of the object of said thoughts gently wafting out from his headphones.

"Chuck? Chuck, can you hear me?"

**|CHUCK|**

"Chuck? Chuck, can you hear me?" Sarah spoke softly into her earpiece as she crouched by the barely open van side door.

"Hm? Oh, yes, sorry Sarah!" Chuck's comforting voice filled her ears as Casey grunted from the back of the van, with his headset on and positioned in front of the myriad of computer monitors.

"Great," Casey growled, "it's not like we've been waiting for ten minutes or anything. Can you get the security feeds up?"

"Way ahead of you, Casey," Chuck replied, as Sarah listened to the sound of him frantically typing. "What's the name of the factory?"

"Kharkiv suchasnoho taktychnoho kompanii Vyrobnytstvo prystroiiv," she quickly rattled off in fluent Ukrainian.

"Damn', you make that sound hot," Chuck muttered in reply.

"Keep it in your pants, Bartowski."

"I'm over 5000 miles away, Casey, it would be physically impossible for me to get it out."

"But not by much," Sarah remarked with a smirk.

"Urgh, that's disgusting, you're like a pair of rabbits."

"Although," she began with a devilish tone in her voice, "I did send Chuck some photos last night…"

"Oh god, make it stop."

"Really?" Chuck asked a little too quickly.

"No, not really," Sarah replied, "but I could if you wanted me to," She added with a grin that was pure evil.

Chuck coughed. "The, um, the er, the thing," he floundered. "The thing you wanted me to do is done."

Casey grunted.

"Right Chuck, I'm going in," Sarah said, quickly sliding out if the van and sliding the door shut with a gentle _thud_ as she walked towards the large grey factory. To the right of the enormous pair of main doors, was a small door with a grimy red sign above it, reading 'RECEPTION'. She gently pushed the filthy door open, attempting to ignore the feeling of the slime and dirt squelching under her fingertips, and strode confidently towards the dingy reception desk.

"Hello, how may I help you?" the heavy set woman asked from behind the desk.

"Good afternoon, I am Miss Strzechowski, from the Ukrainian Factories Administration Directorate. I'm here to conduct a routine inspection of your log books and paperwork," Sarah replied, again in Ukrainian, whilst quickly pulling out a badge that 'proved' her cover.

The receptionist glanced at the badge, before picking up the phone and speaking rapidly, and turning back to Sarah. "Someone will be down shortly to escort you to our Administration Department."

Sarah nodded curtly, and turned around to look at the single poster planted on the wall opposite the reception desk. It was fairly uninteresting, the 'centrepiece' being an image of a conveyor belt, but a small icon in the top left corner caught her eye. It looked like a maze; a series of black concentric circles on a grey background, framed by two rampant, red Chinese dragons. She had seen it before. Where was a mystery, but it looked familiar. Quickly, she glanced around, debating whether or not to risk taking a photo and sending it to Chuck, but that idea was quashed when she heard a man clear his throat behind her.

"Miss Strzechowski?"

Sarah nodded.

"This way, please, I'll take you to a computer terminal where you can access our files."

"Thank you," she replied, flashing a quick smile, and noting the way his eyes glazed over when she did.

"I must say, it's a bit of a surprise to see you here. We weren't expecting an inspection."

"Well, if your records are all in order, you should have nothing to fear from a surprise inspection," Sarah replied curtly.

He didn't reply this time, and lead her silently along a corridor that ran along the main factory floor. Sarah glanced through the plexiglass windows that, given the lack of sound, she presumed were sound proof. The machine next to her was currently churning out small, yellow, handheld devices, with the same red dragon logo printed on them. Next to the output conveyor belt of the machine was a man with greying hair and a walking stick. He looked as if he were leaning forward to inspect the devices, and was flanked by two impressive looking bodyguards with telltale bulges in their suit jackets that indicated they were carrying at least Desert Eagles. Turning a corner, she stopped, and the man swung open the door in front of them, revealing a small closet-like room with a single computer in it.

"This has access to all the files," he said, before turning and walking out. "I presume you can find your own way back."

The moment he was out of the room and the door was shut, she pulled out her phone and began scanning for bugs. She really had to hand it to Chuck, he had outdone himself when he suggested embedding a bug scanner into a phone so that they could scan for bugs without fear of being watching through video bugs. The moment the screen flashed green, she pressed her hand to her ear. "I'm in. No bugs."

"Okay, Sarah, can you plug your phone into the USB port on the computer?"

"Yea, just one sec," she replied, leaning down and plugging one end of the USB charger cable into the computer, and the other end into her phone. "Done."

"Okay, now on your phone, open up the 'Remote Chuck' app."

"It open, it says 'Unable to establish secure link. Searching...'"

"How about now?"

"Um, 'connection established.'"

"Yes!" Chuck exclaimed, "you can't do that on an an iPhone."

"Do what?" Sarah asked curiously.

"Don't _ask_ him," Casey whined, now I'll have sit through him explaining it all."

"I've created a remote VNC link through your phone and onto that computer. Now, I can do this," he said, whilst Sarah's eyebrows rose as the mouse on the screen in front of her moved, "all the way from Washington."

She watched as he opened up a black window with blocky green text on the computer, and began to type commands whilst murmuring over the comms. "Linux, that's good," he muttered. "Pseudo sue password. No, damn'. Try pseudo vee pseudo. Yes!" After a few more moments he announced his success. "Ooh yea, pirhana strikes again!"

"Pirhana?" Casey snorted.

"Oh, um, crap. Did I say that out loud?"

"Very loud, sweetie."

"What's with the nickname, moron?"

"It's nothing, really, just a college thing," Chuck replied, seeming to suddenly be afflicted with a rather severe cough.

Casey grunted. "Moron."

"My moron," Sarah corrected him.

"Hey!" Chuck called out. "You can access anything on their network now, Sarah."

"Thanks Chuck," Sarah replied, immediately sitting down on the chair in front of te computer and opening up the file browser. First, she went to the folder labelled 'Accounts'; it was her cover for being here, and was as good a place to start as any. She had a flash of inspiration the moment the first file opened. "Chuck!"

"Yes?"

"Can you still see this?"

"The computer, yea. You've got the accounts from the 2008-2009 business year up."

"Mhmm, but can you see that logo? The one with a maze and two red dragons."

"Yes," Chuck began. "That was on the wall in the other factory, where you got captured!"

"I knew I recognised it," Sarah growled grumpily.

"That connects the two factories together," Casey interjected.

"It's hardly evidence, though," Sarah pointed out.

"It's enough for me."

"I'll send it to some NSA analysts," Chuck said.

"Walker, you've got a man approaching your position," Casey stated, calmly interrupting Chuck.

Sarah quickly yanked out the phone from the compter, and stuffed it, charger and all, into her pocket. She clicked open the 2010-2011 accounts just as the door swung open, and the same man from before poked his head in.

"You done yet?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied formally, "everything appears to be in order."

"Sarah, shut down the computer, or they'll know something is wrong with it," Chuck whispered.

She quickly hit the shutdown button before standing up and walking over towards the door. "I can show myself out," she said, smiling sweetly at the man.

"Straight down the corridor, the same way as before," he replied, before quickly hurrying in the opposite direction.

She half ran, half walked along the corridor and back to the reception. Flashing, a small smile to the receptionist she hurried back out of the factory and into the van. "Did you get the pictures, Chuck?"

"Yea, they're on their way to the NSA now."

"Good job, Chuck."

"Thanks Sarah," he replied wistfully. "I wish I was there though."

"I'll be on the next flight back, Chuck."


	14. C&S vs the Third Omaha Part II Chapter 3

**Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 3**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

_Is it the look in your eyes,_

_Or is it this dancing juice?_

_Who cares, baby?_

_I think I wanna marry you._

Chuck hummed along as he strolled along the downtown D.C. sidewalk, bobbing his head to the music as light snowflakes floated gently down around him, and ignoring the stares of every passing coat-clad, scarf-wrapped stranger when he sung "I think I wanna marry you" out loud. His phone pinged as he passed a Starbucks and he reached into his coat pocket to pull it out. His happy smile stretched into a grin when he saw it was a text from Sarah. "_Flight leaves in 3hrs. C u soon, ly xxx."_ Typing out a quick reply, he picked up the pace a bit when he spotted the sign for the jeweller's and, weaving through the crowd, he made a beeline for the entrance. Just as he pressed his bare hand (gloves were a hindrance to his phone-operating capabilities) to the freezing cold door handle, the passionate chorus of "don't say no, no, no no, no" was interrupted by a loud rendition of 'Anyway You Want It'.

"Hey Morgan," Chuck answered with a grumble.

"Hey, Chuck buddy!" Morgan paused, as if pondering something (which was never good). "What's up?"

"Nothing Morgan," Chuck sighed.

"Cool, cool… Look, I was wondering if you could—"

"Actually, Morgan, I'm in the middle of something," Chuck interrupted, sensing the beginnings of a long story. "Can I call you back?"

"Where are you dude? It sounds like L.A. at rush hour."

"I'm actually in Washington, Morgan. At a jeweller's."

"What're you doing at a jeweller's, Chuck? Ellie's birthday isn't for two months, and Sarah's—"

"Morgan…"

"Oh," Morgan drew out as realisation hit. "You're buying _the ring_."

"Yes, Morgan."

"Duuuude! Put me on video, we can look together!"

"No, Morgan, I really don't—"

"Come on! You're gonna propose without even letting your best man see the ring?"

"Morgan, I never said you were the—"

"Chuck," Morgan began, as if he were about to clap a hand on Chuck's shoulder—the 2000 mile separation notwithstanding. "I've been there for _all_ the big Bartowski family moments. Ellie's graduation from High School. Ellie's graduation from college. The first time Ellie brought Devon home—"

"Morgan, that's just Ellie's moments."

"Let me finish Chuck. When Ellie got the job at Westside. When Ellie got the fellowship at USC. When Ellie met your mom—"

"Okay, Morgan. I get the idea—"

"And you're going to deny me the opportunity to help you pick out an engagement ring for Vicki Vale herself? For shame, Chuck, for shame."

"Morgan, I don't think they'll be very happy if I start talking to you in the middle of the shop."

"Whatever Chuck," he replied dismissively, grumpiness evident in his tone. "Just don't come running to me later."

"I'll pick out a few, and send you photos before I decide. How about that?"

"Whatevs dude."

Chuck sighed and put down the phone before pushing open the shop door. Stepping inside, he blinked at the sight of row after row of jewellery encased in bullet-proof security glass, glinting in the frosty, early-December sun, and sending rays of red, blue, orange and purple light scattering across the shop ceiling. "Wow," Chuck muttered under his breath, "this place is big." As he stood there, dumbstruck and wishing Ellie was with him (she was girl, she knew how to do this stuff), he was swiftly accosted by one of the jewellers.

"Sir, may I interest you in a new watch?" he asked, glancing disdainfully at Chuck's Governor.

"Um, no, thank you," Chuck frowned, "I'm actually looking for an engagement ring."

"Ah!" the man exhaled dramatically, "the back desk."

Chuck nodded and made his way through the labyrinth of diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires, making his way gently through the shop as if the slightest touch on one of the cabinets would result in him having to pay several million dollars in damages. "Hi," he began, as he approached the man behind the cabinet running along the back oak panelled wall of the shop. "I'm looking for an engagement ring?"

"Ah, yes," the man replied, emulating the jeweller from near the door. "We have all of our finest pieces right here," he continued, gesturing at the cabinet directly in front if him.

"Could I see them?" Chuck asked politely.

"Yes, of course. Let me just find the right key..." The man fumbled with his keychain for a moment, before unlocking the cabinet and sliding open the back pane of glass. "Now does your girlfriend generally wear white gold, or yellow gold?"

"White," Chuck replied firmly.

"Okay," he replied, pulling out the top two trays from the cabinet. "These are all of our white engagement rings. Now, the ones here," he pointed to the tray on the left, "are the larger diamonds. They tend to stand out more, and extend from the finger quite far."

Chuck nodded mutely, glancing across at the fat diamonds firmly planted in the centre of the thick banded white gold rings. None of those were right. Too big, and too flashy; not Sarah's style at all.

"These ones are the slightly smaller diamonds," he continued, now looking at the tray on the right, "they tend to have thinner bands, but a few of these pieces have more than one stone in them."

Chuck dragged his gaze over to the other tray, and began to scan over them. These were much better; small, but not invisible. Noticeable, but not garish.

"This particular piece is very nice," the man said, holding out a plain ring with a single diamond set in the centre. "A three quarter carat brilliant solitaire diamond set in 18 karat white gold. Only 3,000 dollars."

Chuck, however, wasn't listening to a word the jeweller was saying. His eyes were fixed on the ring tucked away in the back corner of the tray. It was perfect. There was a single, glimmering diamond set in the middle of the ring, with two strips of small diamonds running along the band, away from the centrepiece. "How much for that?" Chuck asked, pointing at the ring.

"Mm," the man hummed, picking up the ring. "Ah! Yes, I remember this one. A brilliant solitaire diamond set in 18 karat white gold with diamonds cascading along shoulders. One carat, if I remember correctly."

"How much for it?"

"This one is 7,000 dollars, it is an exquisite piece, though."

"I'll take it," Chuck replied without hesitation. There was something about that ring. It felt perfect.

"Okay," the man replied, now smiling, "what size?"

"Oh, she's got the same size fingers as me," Chuck replied, holding out his hand.

"It would be easier if we had another ring to compare it with."

"I'm sorry, I don't have any of her rings with me," Chuck replied.

"Well, if you are sure, I can model it on your finger size," the man said, holding out the ring and slipping it onto Chuck's finger. "You can always come back to adjust it later, but it will cost more."

"That's fine."

"Hm, well, it seems to fit on your hand perfectly, so if you're happy with that you can take it now."

"Okay," Chuck nodded enthusiastically, forgetting his promise to Morgan, and his plan to not actually buy anything today.

"It comes in a red velvet box, but we can swap that out for another colour, if you'd like."

"No, no, red's fine."

"Okay, is that everything for today then, Mr..."

"Bartowski. Yes, that's all, thank you."

"Very well, will you be paying by card?"

Chuck nodded, pulling out his credit card and handing it to the jeweller. Once he had paid, he swiftly left the shop, and called up Morgan. "Hey, buddy," Chuck chuckled out nervously after Morgan had picked up. "So, about showing you the rings before I bought one..."

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck locked the top drawer of his desk—the one with a bomb proof safe tucked away in the hidden compartment at the back—which was now housing the most important item of jewellery in the world (yes, even more important than the Wookie's diamond), just as the blubbing noise of the Skype ringtone penetrated the cone of silence surrounding Chuck's contemplation about what he had just spent two months' salary on. Noting with a frown that the call was from Cole, he reached over to accept it. "Cole," he acknowledged with a nod, "what's up?"

"Chuck," Cole replied as his face filled the screen of Chuck's monitor, and distilled an immediate sense of suaveness into the room. "Just thought I'd call you up, since I'm supposed to be working with you on the Intersect, and we haven't spoken since you came here."

"Oh, okay. I've actually got a meeting with the Intersect technician in about fifteen minutes."

"Ah, so I take it the file was useful?"

"Yes, very much so. Tell C I appreciate it if you ever see him around," Chuck responded with a small laugh.

"I'll be sure to remember that," Cole replied. "So you've read the whole file? I had a quick look at it before it was shipped off, it was rather large."

"Well, I've read most of it, but I concentrated on the Intersect designs section. There's only one report in there I haven't read yet, on the live test results."

"Hm, okay. You might want to check that out before you try any live tests yourself."

"Yea, I suppose... Do you have a copy of the file?"

"No, there's only one."

"Hm," Chuck hummed in reply.

"You look a bit down, Chuck. Is Sarah off on a mission?"

"Huh? What?" Chuck spluttered, snapping his head back up to look directly into the webcam. "Why would you think that?"

Cole raised an eyebrow. "You're normally making any number of random jokes and pop culture references."

"Yea," Chuck sighed, "she's in Russia with Casey. Her flight back's in three hours, though," he added with a smile.

"Ah, well then, there's an airport reunion to look forward to," Cole chuckled, just as there was a knock on Chuck's door.

Chuck looked up, and switched his monitor to the live CCTV feed of his door; there was a young man in a white lab coat standing outside. "The Intersect guy is here, Cole. I've got to go, but we can finish this up later?"

"Sure thing, Chuck. Don't be so down about Sarah."

Chuck smiled, shaking his head, and pressed a button on his desk to indicate that the Intersect technician could come in, and sat up a bit more straighter in his chair, trying to emanate an air of professionalism that befitted his "director" role.

"Director Carmichael," the technician said as he walked into the office, extending a hand.

Chuck stood up and reached out to shake the technician's hand across the desk. "Call me Chuck, Mr..."

"Um, James, um, Summerfield," the man said, stuffing one hand into his pockets and fiddling with his glasses with the other. "Agent, actually," he added hesitantly, "just passed Field Ops."

"Well then, congratulations, Agent Summerfield, it's good to finally meet you."

"Likewise Director," Summerfield gushed slightly, "it's an honour. I've read all the mission reports, the work you did with Agent Walker in destroying FULCRUM and the Ring is the stuff of leg—" the young agent stopped mid sentence when he noticed Chuck staring at him with a raised eyebrow, and ran a hand nervously through his blond hair.

"Well, it looks like someone's been doing their research," Chuck said with an amused smile. "Just how much do they put in those mission reports anyway?"

"Oh, loads!" he began, before pausing. "But didn't you write them?"

"Who, me?" Chuck laughed light heartedly. "Never. Sarah usually handled all the paperwork."

"Sarah?" James asked.

"Oh, Agent Walker," Chuck clarified, not noticing James' surprise at his informality, and wide eyed awe that he was referring to Agent Walker by her first name. "Anyway, I've got the Intersect files from the SIS here," he continued, flipping open the designs for the original Intersect and pushing them across the table to James.

James picked them up and scanned through, um-ing and ah-ing at all the right places, telling Chuck he knew what he was doing. "These are pretty comprehensive," he admired. "If we follow these, combined with the designs we still have, we should be able to recreate the 2.0."

"And then we use that as the base to create the 3.0."

"Yes," James nodded, "once we have a 2.0 I'll need a list of specifications for the 3.0, and we can implement them."

"Right. So you're going to build this," Chuck tapped the designs, "and then use the 1.0 and 2.0 designs to upgrade it?"

"Yep, but we needed these, because the 1.0 designs only specify modifications to the original, without detailing the actual designs."

"Mm, I'm told that that was a 'security feature', so that no-one else could build an Int—"

"Agent Carmichael, this is General Beckman's office." The voice of Beckman's secretary interrupted Chuck mid-sentence, as it emanated from the intercom.

Quickly, Chuck reached over and picked up the phone, muting the loudspeaker. "Carmichael, insecure. Could you hold for just one second?" Chuck placed the phone down on the desk, and glanced sheepishly at James. "Can we finish this later, Agent Summerfield? This is kind of important..."

James, who looked positively shocked that he was meeting with a man who got calls from the head of the NSA, and then proceeded to casually put her on hold, nodded. "Yea, yea, of course. I'll see myself out."

Once James was out of the room, Chuck picked up the phone and pressed it to his ear again. "Hello? Yes, I'm secure now."

"Chuck." Beckman's tired voice came through the phone. "There's been a development in the arms trading front, I'm starting a video conference with Sarah and the Colonel, I just wanted to ensure you were secure first."

"Okay," Chuck replied, putting down the phone just as video feeds of Beckman, Casey and (most importantly) Sarah appeared on his screen. Quickly, he flung Casey's and Beckman's windows over to the monitor on the wall, keeping Sarah's maximised on his desk. "Hey," he said with a grin.

"Hi Chuck," Sarah replied with a smile of her own.

"Team," Beckman began from her position on the wall, "our analysts scanned the logo you sent us, and they've found a match. The logo is an old insignia for a company called Volkoff Industries, based in the new business park in Moscow. This intel matches up with the computer address locations Chuck found last month, when you two got yourselves captured, and the accounts Sarah downloaded also point to several Swiss bank accounts with links to Volkoff. This is evidence enough that Volkoff's behind this trading ring, and the DNI has given the go ahead for a covert snatch and grab on Volkoff. Sarah, Casey, you're in Ukraine already, it's an hour long plane ride from Moscow, and time is of the essence, so I want you to head there now and get this done. There'll be an aircraft waiting for you at Harkin airport, it'll hang around in Moscow as well. Once you have Volkoff, bring him straight back here."

Chuck watched Sarah's face falling as the General was talking, and felt his own grin fading as they all recited "yes ma'am" in unison. He almost didn't hear Sarah asking to speak with him on a private line.

"Chuck," Sarah said. "Chuck, come on."

Chuck looked up at her image on the monitor. She was sitting in a hotel room of some kind, on the bed with her laptop in her lap. Her hair was ruffled and pulled to one side of her makeup free face. She was beautiful. He missed her. "This mission feels like it's never going to end."

"I know, but once we get Volkoff it'll be over. Just a few more days."

"I just wish I was there with you. It would make this whole this so much easier."

"I know Chuck," she replied with a weary smile. "Just one last mission."

_~Author's Note~_

**Here is the ring: goo do****t gl slash 6csX4.**

**Also, you may have noticed that this particular story arc (not the story, just this bit of it) is drawing to a close, so unfortunately Chuck and Sarah will be separated for a bit longer. However, I promise a very happy ending, and I'll try to keep it all light hearted. And yes, I know suaveness isn't a real word.**


	15. C&S vs the Third Omaha Part II Chapter 4

**Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 4**

**Wow. The response to the last chapter was amazing! That was the most reviews I've ever got for a single chapter, thank you!**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Sarah sat silently, with her forehead resting against the plastic frame of the aeroplane window as she looked out westward, her mind was blank, save for passing thoughts of what Chuck would be doing back in Washington. She didn't even bother to try going to sleep as Casey had done, even though it was midnight in Ukraine. There wasn't any point—she knew she wasn't going to be able to get any sleep without Chuck to lean on—so she had attempted to pass the time by reading through the files on Volkoff Industries Beckman had sent them. The problem was, the file was thin. Literally only three pages thick, and out of the three pages, one was dedicated to a whole _three_ sentences on the CEO of Volkoff Industries: Alexei Volkoff. In short, they had nothing, not even a photo, _and_ she had only managed to kill ten minutes in an hour and a half long flight. So, here she was, leaning against the window, wishing she was back home—_home_, god it felt weird to say that—with Chuck, incapable of falling asleep without him, and (primarily because he wasn't here with her) nothing to do to 'entertain' her.

Well this was new. She didn't actually want to be on a mission, at least not without Chuck, anyway. Turning her head away from the intricate patterns of ice crystals forming on the window, so that her ear was pressed up against the cold plastic, her thoughts wandered back to the day five years ago, when she met him. "_What should I do if he runs?_" "_Kill him._" God, she had been so cold. And the then it was him on the other side of the door, looking too damn' cute with those flowers and the shirt and those curls. But had she really changed all that much? Here she was, flying to Moscow to capture a man who she knew nothing about, who may or may not be involved in the crimes he is charged with, knowing full well she (or Casey) would embed a lump of metal in his brain if he so much as thought about running. Hell, she didn't even have a photo of him. Of course, Chuck would say that she had changed. Actually, he would say that he loved her for who she was, not what she had done. Damn' him for being so sweet. And she still couldn't sleep.

**|CHUCK|**

"A de-Intersection device?" Chuck asked with incredulity.

"Yes," James replied from over the phone, "now that we have the full designs for the Intersect we can reverse engineer it. I've already drawn up some early designs for it."

"That's amazing…" Chuck trailed off, pondering the implications. Of course, it would mean he could remove the one in his head if he ever wanted too, but it would also make the testing process much safer, with the option of being able to 'reset' the user—that's what they had decided to call someone with an Intersect installed—back to normal. "How does it work?"

"It sort of, cancels it out. The normal Intersect is 'installed' into the white matter of the brain, and creates links to the visual and auditory centres—from what the neurologists say. The de-Intersector doesn't remove the 'installation,' but severes the links to the visual and auditory centres by overloading the connections."

"Overloading?" That didn't sound good, wasn't that why he had a governor?

"Well, that's the thing. It could completely destroy the brain if it isn't targeted correctly."

"Hm," Chuck mulled the idea over. It couldn't hurt to try to develop it, as long as there was no testing until it could be proven to be safe. And the implications would be huge if they could pull it off. "Carry on developement, James. Just be careful, and don't test it."

"Right, okay. Just one more thing…"

"Yep?"

"Those designs you gave me, the Intersect described in them is so much more powerful than the 1.0, and even the 2.0—"

Chuck frowned. More powerful? They had _reduced_ its functionality, that didn't make sense. "What?"

"The original Intersect was 'always on.' A user wouldn't flash, but would _always_ have access to the information stored in the Intersect. The original Intersect was much more like—"

"Memory," Chuck finished. "It would have been as if the user had learnt the information in the usual way."

"Exactly," James replied, before pausing, or rather, hesitating. "It would also allow for new memories to be installed. To completely overwrite one person, and replace them with another."

Chuck swallowed. So that was the original purpose of the Intersect. A brainwashing tool? "Right. James, don't tell anyone about this, and we won't talk about it over the phone either." James voiced his assent, before Chuck put down the phone. This was serious. Why had they reduced the functionality of the Intersect so much? He glanced at the final report that he had yet to read, on the results of the live testing, it could have some answers.

**|CHUCK|**

"She's CIA, sir," the man said, timidly standing in front of the grand oak desk, with his head bowed, hiding the opulent office from his view. "She was the one who infiltrated our EMP operation here."

"And then she escaped," the grey haired man behind the oak desk replied, his voice was low, and although he spoke with a slight Russian accent, a hint of something else could be detected underneath it all.

"Yes, she escaped."

"Hm. How is the ice cream parlour coming along?"

The man looked up and blinked at his boss's sudden change in mood. "Sir?"

The grey haired man just looked at him impassively, tilting his head forward slightly.

"It is almost done, we're just installing the sprinkles trays."

His boss's face broke out into a wide smile as he clapped his hands together and stood up. "Well then, let's go and test out the ice cream machine!"

**|CHUCK|**

██████████test failed████████████████████████

██████████████████████████abort project██████

███████████████████████████████████classify█

██████████████████████████████redacted█████

Well that was helpful. This was the _un_redacted version of the live testing report for the original. Clearly, it seemed the test had failed, and it didn't take a genius to work out that it had probably failed pretty spectacularly. However, what could have possibly happened, that the SIS wanted to cover it up so badly, they redacted the original copy of the file. Clearly, this was the same reason the CIA and the NSA had no files on the original Project Omaha left. Puffing out his cheeks in frustration, he reached over to the phone, and dialled Cole's direct line.

"Cole," Chuck began, getting straight to the point. He was tired of all of the cover up.

"Chu—"

"The live test results have been redacted," Chuck talked over him.

"What?"

"The test results for the original Intersect have been redacted."

"That can't be right. This is the unredated file," Cole replied in disbelief.

"I'm looking at it right now, Cole," Chuck sighed. "This is ridiculous. All it says is the tests failed. We can't do any tests without knowing what happened in these tests…"

"There's nothing else about the tests?" Cole asked exasperatedly.

Chuck flicked back to the introduction section, which was unredacted, mostly. "It says the test subject was a GCHQ agent, codenamed INT-1. His actual name is redacted."

"Damn' it," Cole puffed. "I've got some friends at GCHQ, I'll see if I can dig anything up. Have you told your superiors yet?"

"No… But I'm going to have to soon, we can't do any testing without knowing what happened here."

"Okay…" Cole trailed off. "Chuck, I've got to go now, I'll get back to you as soon as."

Chuck hung up, and pulled his phone out of his pocket, flicked through his messages. A smile broke out on his face when he saw a text from Sarah.

"_Flight landed. Couldn't sleep w/o you :(. Mission 3am Russian. You be on comms? :). Ly xxx"_

It was immediately followed by a smiling photo of her on the CIA jet, with slightly ruffled hair and—Chuck coughed at the three, no, four buttons undone on her shirt.

"_Thought you needed reminding what I looked like._"

Chuck grinned, and sent back a photo of himself, albeit without the lack of clothing. "_Never! But I'm not complaining ;)_"

**|CHUCK|**

"You all set Chuck?" Sarah asked worriedly, shouting over the loud swishing of the helicopter rotor blades.

"I'm fine, Sarah," he replied, as he smiled at the way she said his name, "don't worry about me."

"I'm always worrying about you," she replied.

"I should be worried about you," he said, causing her mouth to curl up into a small smile, "it's 3am in Russia."

"I'll be fine Chuck. I'm used to late nights."

"Oh, we're both definitely used to late nights," Chuck replied, his voice dripping with innuendo and eliciting a disgusted grunt from Casey. "We're just not usually apprehending evil terrorists. What's the plan?"

"We're hovering over the Volkoff building now, out of range of any low-power radar they might have. I'm going to parachute down and abseil along the side until I reach Volkoff's office—"

"How do you know where it is?"

"A friend of mine in the commie army dug up the plans," Casey grunted.

"You have Russian friends?" Chuck replied in utter disbelief.

"He wanted to defect, said he loved Reagan."

"Anyway," Sarah continued, "once I reach it, I'll break through the glass, grab Volkoff and zip back up to the roof of the building."

"I'll be waiting in the helo up top, ready to snipe any arms trading commie bastard if I need to, or just waiting to pick up Walker."

"Once I'm back in the helicopter, Casey will administer the high-power tranquilizer that should keep Volkoff out of it for 24 hours."

"We'll then head straight back to the aircraft on an airstrip just outside Moscow, transfer into it, and get out of commie airspace and into the land of the free asap."

"Right then, you ready to go?"

"Yep. Walker, helo's hovering at 6000 feet, that's 2000 out of radar range. We're offset from the building to allow for windspeed. Should be a standard jump."

"All set then," she yelled back at him, before looking at the pilot, who gave her a quick thumbs up. She stood up from her seat, and walked (well, crouched) over to the helicopter side door, just as Casey slid it open, allowing a rush of freezing Russian winter air to enter the cabin. She pulled a balaclava down over her face, and checked her throwing knives were strapped to her thigh, before pulling out both her tranq gun (for Volkoff), and her proper gun (for anyone who pissed her off) and quickly checking them over. Casey silently slid round behind her, and slipped on a black backpack, to add to her black boots, black jacket, black shirt, black combat trousers and black balaclava.

"Parachute," he stated simply, before she nodded in reply. "All set?"

She nodded, swallowing deeply as she stepped up to the edge of the helicopter and looked out into the dark, cloudy abyss she was about to jump out into. It didn't matter that she had done this a hundred times before; jumping out of an aircraft at 6000ft was just something she'd rather not do.

"Three," Casey began, holding his hand out next to her head. "Two… One…"

She never heard him say 'go', because she was already out of the door, with the wind rushing past her face. She never wanted anyone to take a photo of her doing this: her face was probably contorted into some weird kind of shape she didn't really want to ever have to look at. She counted in the back of her mind, and moved her hand across to her left shoulder, pulling down on the cord hard as she burst through the cloud layer. The black parachute unfurled above her, and wrenched up on her shoulders as it ballooned open. She glided out through the bottom of the clouds, to see the Volkoff building directly in front of her; it's magnificent glass façade shimmering in the starlit sky. She quickly checked her course, but it seemed like Casey and the pilot had positioned the helicopter in precisely the right place, as she was exactly on target. The glowing "V" logo grew larger as she rapidly approached, before she landed on the Volkoff Industries rooftop with a well executed combat roll, mere seconds after leaving the (relative) warmth of the helicopter cabin. She quickly cut the cords to her parachute, just as her earpiece crackled into life.

"Sarah?" Chuck's concerned voice broke through the static. "Sarah?"

"I'm fine, Chuck," she replied.

"Okay," she could hear him releasing a breath. "Their security system is ridiculously strong, and I don't want to push too hard, it could alert them."

"It's fine Chuck, I'll just make sure there's no one else in the room before I go in."

"Helo's in position above the building. Hovering at 5000."

Sarah walked over to the edge of the roof, leaving the black parachute billowing in the breeze behind her, and hooked two huge winches—containing 500ft of rope, each—to a conveniently-placed sturdy looking metal bollard sticking out of the roof. After unravelling rope from each, and throwing them over the side of the building, she slipped one of the ropes through a figure eight descender and hooked it onto a carabiner attached to her harness. "Ropes are secure," she said quietly into her earpiece, as she walked to the edge of the building and turned so that her back was facing the not-so-amazing skyline of the Moscow industrial district, "I'm going over."

"Be careful Sarah," Chuck whispered into his earpiece, and she smiled, just as she kicked off the edge and swung out into the sky. The rope didn't let her fly out too far, however, and she slammed back into the side of the building with a resounding _thud_.

"Tenth floor from the top, Walker," Casey grunted.

"Right," she replied, before pulling the the rope through the descender and slipping gracefully along the side of the building, opposite to the side with the giant glowing logo on it. "Five," she whispered, passing the fifth floor from the top, and not silently thanking someone that all the blinds had been drawn shut so far. Soon she was at the ninth floor, and she paused, resting her combat boot clad feet against the glass window. "Next one should be the office."

"Right," Casey replied.

"How are you going to get in?" Chuck asked.

"Smash the window," Sarah replied with a smirk. Hearing his voice always made her smile in one form or another. After a few more seconds had passed, she slipped down, so that she was looking straight into one of the most opulent offices she had ever seen. On the massive oak desk that was the centrepiece of the room, there were numerous statuettes and figurines—all presumably silver—scattered all over. Behind the desk was her target. She guessed he was Alexei Volkoff, since he was the one sitting in the biggest chair in the room, behind the biggest desk in the room, even he did look a bit young to be the CEO of a huge company that was merely a front for one of the largest arms trading rings in the world. Silently, making no noise against the glass window, she slipped out her hunting knife from the side of her boot, and pulled out her tranq gun with her left hand. Carefully, she inched her body closer to the window, all as the black haired man at the desk continued to crouch forward over his desk, reading something on it. She positioned her knife so that it was pointing directly at the centre of the window, and trained her tranq gun at the base of Volkoff's neck, before tensing up every muscle in her body and noiselessly pushing back, so that she gently swung away from the window. Then, she tightened her grip on her knife as she glided back toward the window, tensing her grip on the knife as she swung towards the window. Just moments before she hit it, she swung her arm out with all the force of a hardened martial artist, cracking the glass. Volkoff began to turn his head, just as Sarah's combat boots smashed into the already cracked glass, sending shards flying across the room in side. Just as his face came into view, she carried on swinging through the now-open window and landed, catwoman style, on the floor, whilst shooting a single tranq dart into his neck, before swiftly standing up and grabbing him before he hit the ground. Swinging into rapid action, she reached behind her, and deftly unzipped her backpack, pulling out a second harness. She hastily strapped it onto him, stealing glances at the door as she did, before pulling out a second carabiner. She clipped the carabiner to his harness, before dragging his limp body over to the shattered window, and grabbing the rope. She tied the rope to his carabiner, before unclipping her descender and slipping the rope out of it. She put it into her pocket, before tying her rope back straight back onto her carabiner. Quickly, she pulled his body out of the building, and stood on the edge herself as his body dangled on the rope. "Casey, I've got the package, activate the winch."

"Roger that," Casey replied. "In two, one, go."

On 'go' she stepped off the edge, just as the two winches activated, and she jerked up, along with the limp body of Volkoff, towards the top of the building. She began to run along side, and grabbed Volkoff to stop him from swinging into the glass. "Casey, is the copter in position?"

"Roger that, hovering 1000 above the top of the building. We'll come down for pickup on your signal."

The wind fluttered across her eyelids (only, she still had the balaclava on) as she carried on striding up the side, before she soon reached the top. She stepped onto the roof, and pulled Volkoff up, before dragging him to the centre. "Pickup whenever you're ready, Casey," she said, as she ran back to grab the two winches and stuff them into her backpack. Not a moment later, dust began to swirl around the rooftop in a giant cyclone, as the helicopter descended. She saw Casey stick his head out of the window and give her a thumbs up, before throwing a rope out. First, she strapped Volkoff on, and Casey pulled him up, before she went up herself.

"All done?" Chuck asked as she slid the helicopter door shut behind her and collapsed onto the seat.

"God, I wish you were here," she muttered, before clapping her hand over her mouth.

Casey grunted, before ramming a large syringe into the side of Volkoff's neck, and pushing the plunger down. "He'll be out cold for twenty four hours."

"I wish I was there too," Chuck replied. "Or you were here, either way."

He grunted, again, before lifting Volkoff's body up onto the seat opposite him, and strapping him in.

"Actually I wish I was there," Sarah replied with a small laugh, as Casey left Volkoff's head to loll forwards. "No one watching," she added in a hot whisper.

"Hey, do you have a laptop?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow, and left Chuck in silence for a moment, to mull over what he had just said. "With Casey here?"

"What?" Chuck spluttered. "No! No, no, no! I just miss seeing your face," he finished in a small whisper.

Her face broke out into a smile when she heard that. How was he so adorable, _all the time_? "Casey, take out your earpiece," she said, before pulling a small laptop out of his bag.

He grunted in reply, and took out the earpiece from his ear, from behind the helicopter headset, and slipped it into his pocket.

She flipped it open and switched it on. "It's on Chuck." Chuck didn't reply, but a flashing thing soon popped up on the screen, and her screen was instantly filled with his face when she hit the green phone icon.

"Hey," he breathed, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Hey," she whispered back, looking at his tired face. "You look tired."

He chuckled. "I could say the same about you." She raised an eyebrow, and he smiled. "Your hair's all ruffled, and it looks like you've got sock marks around your eyes."

"It's that damn' balaclava."

"You look beautiful."

She laughed.

"I miss you," he said seriously, after just smiling at her for a moment.

"I miss you too," she replied.

"Come home soon?"

"We're on our way to the airfield where the plane is now."

"Only a ten hour flight to go," he chuckled half heartedly.

"Chuck," she began, looking at him seriously.

"Hm?"

"I love you."

His face split into a small grin. "I love you too."

"Walker!" Casey interrupted.

She looked up at him, fire in her eyes. "What?" she growled.

"We've got company."

Her head snapped back to the laptop, "Chuck—"

"I know, go be amazing."

"Chuck," she sighed.

"It's fine Sarah," he smiled.

"Stay on the comms," she replied, before setting the laptop down next to her. "What is it?"

"Five men on the ground. Two armoured trucks, looks like they're full up as well."

She immediately unbuckled herself, and reached across the cabin to pick up the second sniper rifle—Casey already had the first one—just before noticed that the rotors weren't spinning anymore. "Casey," she began cautiously, causing him to look away from the window and at her, "the rotors!"

His eyes widened and her lunged towards the obscured cockpit, only to find the pilot unconscious, and the rotor speed lever snapped off. "Cyanide," he shouted back to her, "cowardly son of a bitch broke off the throttle and killed himself."

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck sat, frozen in place and unable to do anything, as he watched Sarah leap into the cockpit as deafening cracks from Casey's sniper rifle stretched his speakers to the limit of their volume.

"Brace!" he heard Sarah yell, not seconds before the helicopter crashed into the ground, sending the laptop flying across the cabin.

The laptop was now facing Casey, and the door against which he was leaning. He grunted slightly as the door ground open, with the sickening sound of metal sliding across metal filling Chuck's office. He watched as an old man stepped into the helicopter, leaning on a walking stick with one hand. He crouched down in front of Casey's semi-concious body, and glanced disgustedly at Volkoff, who was still strapped to the seat.

"You think that's Alexei Volkoff?" he laughed through a light Russian accent. "You think it would be that easy to capture Alexei Volkoff? No," he finished, "I am Alexei Volkoff."

_~Author's Note~_

**Charah next chapter, I promise :D.**

**It probably won't surprise anyone to hear that I've never been skydiving either, so if I got it completely wrong, tell me and I can change it :). I have, however, been abseiling (never from the top of a 1000ft tall building, though). Also, I'm not sure how Skype would work at 5000ft in a helicopter, but it's the CIA, so I'm sure they'll manage.**

**In other news, I watched the Olympics, and I'm going to see the hockey finals next week. Personally thought the opening ceremony was awesome, but I guess I'm a bit biased :P. I was disappointed to hear about NBC's terrible coverage of it, another thing to add to the list of things they've f*ed up :(, you should try the BBC :D.**


	16. C&S vs the Third Omaha Part II Chapter 5

**Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 5**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Chuck froze, watching in horror as Vokoff—the real Volkoff—swung down with his cane, crushing the laptop in the helicopter and cutting off the video feed. He just sat there, for what felt like hours, staring the at static on his computer screen. In actual fact, he only waited for seconds before springing into action. Opening up the tracking window, setting Sarah and Casey's status to 'captured' on the CIA database, calling up Beckman.

"Chuck?" Beckman picked up the moment he called. "Is there a problem?"

"Sarah and Casey have been captured," Chuck breathed out, and watched as Beckman's nostrils flared. "They had bad intel, they captured a decoy. The real Volkoff was waiting for them at the airport."

"Shit," Beckman swore, surprising Chuck, and looked off to one side in anger. "Can you find them?"

"I'm trying," Chuck replied, frantically clicking as his computer opened the tracking window in record slow speed. "It's just open—" he was cut off by the sound of another call coming through. Cole. "General, Agent Barker's calling. I'll just tell him to wait."

"Keep me informed Chuck," she replied curtly, before cutting the line.

"Cole, now's reall—"

"I've got a photo of the test subject."

"—really not a good time."

Cole stopped, and frowned, looking at Chuck's worried face, frown lines etched into his forehead as he devoted his utmost attention to the computer screen in front of him. "I'll just fax it to you," he replied, just before the fax machine next to Chuck's computer hummed into life. "What's up?"

"Sarah's been captured Cole," he replied, still not looking at the camera, and focussing all his attention on the tiny bit of paper that he had pulled out of his pocket, with Sarah's tracking frequency scribbled on it.

"Oh, right. Call me if you need any help."

"Thanks," Chuck replied, before blindly ending the call and typing the number into the tracking software. He hit enter as the fax machine beeped loudly to signify the arrival of a file, and Chuck glanced over at the fax machine, that was sitting on a small table next to his main desk. He looked away almost immediately, not really caring about the Intersect, but stopped halfway through turning his head back towards the desk. Slowly, in a slight daze, he stood up, and wandered across to the fax machine, picking up the printed photo with slightly trembling hands. _Volkoff_. Volkoff was the first ever Intersect test subject? He sank back into his chair, holding the printout up in front of his face as he noted that Sarah's tracking chip was still working, and she was being driven back to the Volkoff Industries tower. _Sarah_! He sprang back into action, hectically calling both Beckman and Cole simultaneously, whilst he paged James 'urgent'.

"Chuck. Have you found them?"

"Yes, but there's more," Chuck glanced at one of the computer monitor, displaying Sarah's current position. She was back at the tower, and the red tracker indicated she was underground.

"Chuck," Cole announced, clearly confused.

"Bartowski, what are you doing?"

"Volkoff is the first Intersect test subject," Chuck announced, silencing the room after he tore his eyes away from the computer screen.

"What?' Beckman and Cole said at the same time.

"Who's Volkoff—?"

"First Intersect test subject—?"

"Volkoff is an international arms dealer," Chuck replied to Cole first, much to Beckman's obvious chargin. "General, the test results on the first ever person to upload the Intersect are completely redacted. The only information available is that they failed."

"I thought you were given the unredacted files?"

"He was," Cole piped up, "but apparently, whatever it was, it was permanently redacted. I sent Chuck a photo of the only person I could find at GCHQ who may have taken part in Project Omaha."

Beckman raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And you think this, Agent, is Alexei Volkoff?"

"He is," Chuck nodded emphatically, "I was on a video line to Sarah—" he glanced back at her tracker, since it was also a heart monitor now (he had had it upgraded).

"On a classified mission?" Cole queried.

"Don't even ask," Beckman replied quickly.

"When their helicopter crashed. Volkoff came in and smashed the laptop."

"And how do you know this person was Volkoff?" Beckman asked.

Chuck huffed slightly, as he reached over and played the recording of the last moments of the video feed.

_"You think that's Alexei Volkoff?" he laughed through a light Russian accent. "You think it would be that easy to capture Alexei Volkoff? No," he finished, "I am Alexei Volkoff."_

That seemed to convince her, since she just sat there, watching the frozen image of Volkoff's face. "But, how?"

James, clearly taking that as a cue, knocked on the door before opening it slowly, and stepped in, closely followed by the Director.

"I took the liberty of calling Director Williams," Beckman said, noting Chuck's raised eyebrow.

"Agent Carmichael?" James asked, looking at the images of Beckman, Cole and the CIA tracker on various monitors around the office.

"Yes, James. Could you please explain to the General what you were telling me earlier, about the memories," Chuck said, ignoring the Director, before staring at the tracker again as James spoke, impatiently tapping his foot.

"Oh, um, yea," James stumbled over his words slightly. "The, um, the original Intersect was far, far more powerful than the 1.0, or even the 2.0. It had the capability to be installed directly into the grey matter, replacing the host's memories," James paused, and glanced at Chuck, who was pulling open drawers and picking various tranq guns and gadgets out from them. "It made it possible for one person to be entirely replaced by another."

"So this British Agent was… replaced, by Volkoff?" Cole asked, a frown etched onto his face.

"Yes, it's possible" James replied. "I'm guessing there was some kind of timeout that failed."

"What are you going to do about it?" the Director asked, speaking for the first time since entering the room.

"Agent Summerfield was working on a way to remove the Intersect," Chuck replied, not looking up from his bag, into which he was stuffing a large pair of night vision goggle that he had retrieved from his desk drawer.

"Agent Carmichael, what are you doing?" the Director asked, his face contorted into a frown.

"Packing," Chuck replied shortly.

"For what?"

Chuck sat up slightly, and looked away from his bag for the first time since James had arrived. "To go to Russia."

The Director blinked twice. "You're not going to Russia."

"Yes," Chuck said, forcing the words out between his gritted teeth, "I am."

"Agent Carmichael—"

"Chuck," Beckman interrupted the Director, "as a member of my team, I need you to mount a rescue mission immediately." The Director's eyes widened, and his face turned livid, whilst Chuck smiled. "You are to rescue the captured members of your team, and attempt to retrieve Alexei Volkoff as well."

"I'll meet you there, Chuck," Cole added, causing Beckman to raise an eyebrow. "Volkoff is a British Agent, General. I'm bringing him back home."

"Like hell you are," the Director hissed, "that man has sold trillions of dollars of illegal weapons—"

"Due to an _American_ research project that went wrong!"

"He was clearly completely understood the risks—"

"Enough." The General's sharp voice cut through the argument, immediately silencing Cole and the Director. "This is an American operation. So Volkoff will come back here," she began, raising her hand to stop Cole from interrupting. "Agent Barker may accompany him back to the CIA if he wishes to, but do bear in mind that we are the ones with the tools to remove the Intersect from his mind," she finished with a grim look directed a James. Clearly he had not reached the 'awkward smile' level yet.

"James," Chuck began, turning to face him, as he stuffed a small netbook into his backpack, "I need a third man."

He blinked. "Who, me?"

Chuck raised an eyebrow at him, and nodded, before glancing back at Sarah's tracker. She was still in the same place, underneath the Volkoff tower. Must be a cell.

"Um, yea," he paused, "yea, fine. I'll go grab my go-bag."

"Chuck, there are two NSA F-18s on standby at the airport, I'll inform them you'll be needing a flight to Moscow, and I'll also contact the DSS detachment at Moscow, tell them you'll be arriving in five hours."

"I'll meet you at Moscow airport, Chuck."

**|CHUCK|**

Sarah huffed in frustration as the third hair clip snapped inside the lock. She pulled out the last one from her hair and knelt down again in front of the door, blindly pushing it into the lock in the darkness and cursing as she tipped forward slightly, her knees scraping along the damp concrete floor. Despite the fact that there were no lamps in her cell, and the only light came in through the small slit under the door, it was a lot less secure than the other one; with only a simple lever tumbler lock attached to a cast iron door (meaning no one could see into her cell—there were no cameras), they had even left her throwing knives strapped to her thigh. In fact, the wall to her left was so thin, she could hear Casey grumbling about 'commie bastards' and different techniques for neutering a human. She closed her eyes briefly for a moment, pushing back the headache from the mild concussion she must have received when the helicopter crashed—one moment she was staring at the rapidly approaching ground, the next she woke up in this cell, slumped up against the back wall—before focussing back on the lock in front of her. She twisted the hair clip slightly, tilting up up into the lock, and clenched her jaw when she heard a satisfying _click_. Quickly, she turned the clip, sliding the deadbolt out of the lock and standing up as she slowly creaked the door open.

Poking her head out from the crack between the slightly open door and the wall, she looked out into the damp, darkened corridor. There was a single bare light bulb hanging by wire from the ceiling, and she followed a shadow along to see a man standing at the end of the corridor, smoking a cigar and fiddling with a small revolver as he looked at the wall. She looked back at the other end of the corridor, and her mouth turned upwards into a small smile when she saw that the door was wide open. Silently, she pushed the door open, biting her lip and hoping that it wouldn't creak, and crept out of the cell. As she snuck up behind the man, crouching down slightly with her arms raised and hands curled into fists, she thanked someone that floor was concrete—concrete doesn't creak. Raising herself up just behind the guard, her hands flew around his face, covering his mouth with one hand and gripping his neck with the other, just she twisted his head sideways, causing him to collapse to the floor. Not dwelling on what she had just done, she picked up his gun and keys, before running across to Casey's cell and unlocking his door. She swung it open, to be met with a fist just inches from her face, and an angry, growling Casey. Grunting quietly, he lowered his hand, and Sarah raised an amused eyebrow when she saw the small crack on the wall behind him.

"It's been six hours, Walker. What took you so long?"

She shrugged, and winced slightly at the sharp pain in her left shoulder, before turning and heading out through the open door at the end of the corridor.

"Where are you going?"

"To get Volkoff, and then get back home to Chuck."

Another grunt.

**|CHUCK|**

The van pulled up at the back of the Volkoff tower, just beyond the outer perimeter, and out of sight of the multitude of CCTV cameras surrounding the building. Chuck, sitting in the passenger seat next to Cole, turned back to the eleven DSS agents decked out in full tactical gear, and James, who was nervously fidgeting with his Glock. "You sure you want to go through with this, Agent Winters?" Chuck directed his question to the chief of the DSS detachment in Moscow.

"It's our job to protect Americans around the world, Agent Carmichael," he replied stoically, checking that his MP5 was properly loaded.

"This isn't exactly legal…"

"Is the FSB aware?"

"Yes, but—"

"Then that's good enough for me."

"But you don't even know why we're here!"

"It doesn't matter."

Chuck sighed, and nodded his head, zipping up his tactical vest, and checking his own tranq gun, and Glock (hoping he wouldn't have to use it, but this was Sarah—he'd do whatever it took). "Five of you and Agent Winters, go with Cole and make a distraction, you'll be Gold team," Chuck said, speaking to the five agents and Agent Winters on the left of the van. "Agent Summerfield, and four more of you," he continued, turning to the other five agents as well as James, "will come with me to retrieve Agent Walker and the Colonel, we're Rogue Squad. One man needs to stay back with the van. After we've got Agent Walker and Casey we'll head up to retrieve the package," they had decided to call Volkoff the 'package', "Cole, your team's job is to keep the bulk of their forces away from us."

"Right. Where is the package?" Cole asked, turning to face Chuck.

"115th floor," Chuck replied, before pulling out his phone and opening up the tracker app.

"Right then, after you've got Sarah and John we'll start moving up towards there as well" Cole replied, swinging the door open, as the DSS agents began to get off the van from the back.

Chuck stepped out of the van, and walked around to the back, pressing his hand to his earpiece. "Okay, that works. Comm check?"

"All good," everyone replied in tandem.

"Let's go then."

**|CHUCK|**

"How the hell do we get off this floor?" Casey growled, after they had reached the end of the third corridor-to-nowhere.

"Casey!" Sarah called from just behind him, "there's a staircase." She stood just inside what looked like a cell from the outside, but was in fact a small security station.

"Huh," Casey grunted, "hidden staircase. Commie bastards."

She looked over at the guard desk; there were none of the usual expected paraphernalia—no CCTV feeds, no alarm button, no _guard_ even. However, there were two clear plastic bags set down in the corner, one with a silver Smith & Wesson and a black SIG, the other with filled with handgun magazines. "Casey," she whispered, "our guns."

Casey strode over, and picked up the bag with the SIG. "Custom SIG Sauer P229 with Crimson Trace laser grips and silencer," he murmured, causing Sarah to raise an eyebrow as she picked up her own Smith & Wesson 5906, and the bag of magazines

She pulled back the slide and checked the magazine as she walked over to the stairs and began to climb up. "Let's go." She held her gun out in front of her as she slowly walked up the stairs, one step at a time, looking up through the stairwell for any signs of guards approaching. Slowly, but surely, as they climbed up, the decor of the walls changed from the grimy, blood stained mess that they were near the cells, into cleaner whitewashed walls, with small fluorescent lights at the end of each flight of stairs. Soon, they stepped off the final flight, into a small broom cabinet, with bottles of cleaning liquid and polish lining the shelves.

Casey quickly pushed past her, keeping his SIG outstretched as he tested the door. "It's open."

Sarah nodded, and raised her own gun again, just a Casey gently nudged the door open. Two quick 'phft' noises eked out from his gun as Sarah creeper out of the cabinet after him, her eyes quickly scanning across the two guards on the floor, taking in the scanning arcs of the CCTV cameras and noting that she was standing in a corridor with offices on either side, and a elevator at the end. "Elevator," she whispered, pointing at the end of the corridor with her gun. Casey nodded and began to slowly move towards the end of the corridor, as Sarah faced backwards, keeping an eye on every door that they passed. Sarah gently pressed the call button, wincing slightly as it clicked, before turning back to face down the corridor as Casey trained his gun on the elevator. His knuckles tightened to a ghostly white as the elevator pinged, signalling its arrival, and the doors slid slowly open. Casey visibly relaxed once the door had opened, and stepped inside, with Sarah following closely behind him. "Volkoff?" she queried in a quiet voice, hands hovering over the controls. Casey nodded curtly, and she held the close door button and the button for floor 115 together.

"What're you doing?" Casey whispered.

"Something Chuck showed me. This way they won't be able to stop the elevator before we get to the 115."

Casey grunted as the elevator beeped and began to accelerate upwards, the doors sliding shut. They stood in silence, Casey's eyes fixed on the door as Sarah leaned gently against the side of the elevator, her hand twitching against the cold metal of the gun as she pondered the annoying fact that she had no idea what to do with Volkoff once they found him, and then she didn't know how she was going to get back the America. Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a deafening siren that pierced through the air, and was accompanied by a flashing red light. Casey growled as the elevator began to slow to a halt at floor 100, and the door began to slowly slide open.

**|CHUCK|**

The alarms began sounding almost as soon as Cole discharged his first round into a nearby security guard, dropping him instantly as he dove behind an X-ray machine for cover. Behind him, the tactical team began to roll inwards, as bullets whizzed through the air, shattering the nearby metal detecting archways and digging red hot trenches in the solid hard wood floor. The sound of splintering wood and shattering glass was mixed in with the cacophony of the eardrum piercing siren and deafening bell, and Cole pressed his hand to his earpiece to contact Chuck. "Chuck," he half-shouted and half-whispered, "We've made a distraction."

"Yea," Chuck's voice crackled through, partially drowned out by a klaxon blaring in the background, and accompanied by the sound of sporadic automatic gunfire, "I can tell. However, sligh—" Chuck's voice broke off, before picking up again mid-sentence, "—oing up after—"

"Chuck, whoa, back up, you broke up for a—" Cole paused as he poked his gun around from behind the cover and shot two guards who were making their way towards him, "second."

"Oh, sorry. We've got a change of plans. Sarah and Casey are moving, they aren't underground anymore."

Cole paused, discharging another round into the base of someone's neck, severing their head from their body. "What? Have they been moved?"

"I'm not sure," Chuck broke off, as Cole heard a small scuffle, followed by a scream, "sorry, someone tried to shoot me. I'm not sure, but they're on the 100th storey, and look like they're moving up."

"Up?"

"I'm guessing they're being taken to Volkoff."

Cole stilled again, watching as Agent Winters ran forward with the rest of the tactical team, decimating the remainder of the resistance in the foyer down to gruesome smears on the wall and bloody pools on the floor. "Okay then," he began, cautiously stepping out from behind the cover, "what's the new plan?"

"We're going to try and follow them, we still need a distraction though."

"We'll try to draw away some of their men, but I'm not sure how much longer we can keep them away from you."

**|CHUCK|**

"Damn' it!" Chuck yelled, slamming his fist into the stubbornly closed elevator doors, before jumping in pain and clutching his hand. "Work!" his jabbed his finger ferociously into the call button, as a few tears pooled in his eyes.

"Agent Carmichael," James placed a hand on his shoulder, concern and surprise in his eyes, "we'll find another way up."

"No," Chuck growled vehemently, "they're 100 storeys up, there's no way we'd get to her in time."

James blinked slightly when he referred to Sarah specifically, and was about to respond when his earpiece buzzed.

"Rogue leader," the call came in over Chuck's earpiece, "we've captured an unarmed worker. What do you want us to do with him?"

"This is Rogue 2," James interrupted, raising an eyebrow at Chuck as he suddenly realised why they were called Rogue Squadron, "bring him here, we need some info."

Chuck spent the next few moments clenching his fist rhythmically around the handle of his tranq gun, before two DSS agents dragged a disheveled looking civilian man up to him.

"Why isn't the elevator working?" James asked gently, looking intently at the man's face.

He eyes darted around, as a look of slight terror remained etched on his face. "It, er, it," the mumbled through a solid Russian accent, looking in horror at the DSS agents flanking him, "it is disabled in emergency."

James clenched his jaw, noticing Chuck stiffening beside him, "can you enable it?"

"No," the Russian man replied simply.

"I can."

James turned around to see that Chuck has removed the cover of the elevator call button, and was rapidly rewiring it.

"Done." Chuck stood up as he finished, and screwed the cover back in place, before pressing the call button, which dinged as the elevator doors slid open.

James watched, slack jawed, as Chuck—whose faced had become almost expressionless, which was disconcerting given his usual easy readability—gestured towards the elevator. "How?"

Chuck pursed his lips and silently, subtly, shook his head.

**|CHUCK|**

"Floor one-oh-nine Walker," Casey grunted from behind Sarah, as she flew up the stairs at an incredible pace. "Wait."

She snapped her head around, coming to a halt on the stairs and glaring at him.

"Is that gunfire?"

Cocking her head to one side, she listened for a moment, before her eyes widened slightly. "Yes."

Casey growled, and pulled put his SIG, just as the elevator pinged, announcing it's arrival.

"I thought the elevators stopped working," Sarah said with a frown, crouching down on the stairs, hiding her from view of the opening doors as Casey cocked his gun and aimed at the widening crack.

Sarah slowly stood up, allowing her gun to gently drop a few centimetres to the floor as she looked down at the love of her life slowly step out from the elevator and look intently, and slightly coldlybut with a hunt of hope, at Casey.

"Where is she?" she heard him whisper quietly, almost silently, as her mind became completely oblivious to the tactical team now stepping out from the elevator and securing the stairs.

She gripped the railing tightly, gently chewing on the inside of her lower lip as Casey tilting his head upwards towards her. Blinking softly, his eyes locked on ti hers, and she saw his entire face soften as she subconsciously stepped down one step, and then another, and another. Before she realised what she was doing, she was running to the bottom of the stairs, barely registering the fact that he was running towards her as well. Suddenly, her lips were pressed up against his, and she flung her hands up to his head, as his hands flew to her back, pressing her against him. She didn't even think about onlookers long enough to damn' them, before she flicked her tongue across his lips, causing him to open his mouth up and deepen the kiss as her hands roamed along his back. She half-expected his hands to begin wandering as well, but he clearly had more self control than she did, since his hands remained on her back, contentedly and soothingly running up and down her spine. His tongue danced against hers, as she moved her hand up to his cheek, pulling him in further whilst she tilted her head, rubbing their noses together. She wasn't really aware of how long they had been like this, not that she cared, as his hands moved to her face and softly began to caress her cheek. In response, she flicked her tongue over his, before pulling it in and sucking on it as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. She was pulled out of the wonderful, wonderful daze by the feeling of wetness on her cheeks, and pulled back to look at his face. The sight broke her heart. Sure, his face was covered with his tears, but it was his eyes that were killing, because the usually happy, excited, childish playfulness she adored was replaced with sadness. "What's wrong?" she whispered, keeping her arms wrapped around him, and her lips just millimetres from his, their noses just touching.

"Don't ever leave again," he whispered back, eyes deadly serious.

She swallowed back a sob and stared intensely at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Casey looked at them leaning in for another kiss, and grunted. Grunt number 1, rarer than the key to Salem's Chest: "Aw." He quickly turned away, not wanting to wallow in the lady feelings for much longer, and looked at James, who was currently watching the reunion with an expression somewhere between shock, admiration, and disbelief. "Kid," Casey growled, summarising from the lack of a helmet and the white shirt that he was CIA, "who're you?"

James turned towards Casey, and a small amount of fear and respect was added to his already contorted mixture of emotions. "Agent Summerfield, head technician on Project Omaha," he paused, extending his hand, "you're Agent Casey."

Casey grunted. "_Colonel._"

"Sorry?"

"Colonel," Casey said out loud this time.

"Oh sorry, Colonel Casey," James swiftly corrected himself.

Casey shook his hand as James turned his head to see Chuck and Sarah leaning against each other's foreheads, whispering softly to one another. "Leave them, Kid," Casey said, gruffly but quietly, "we still need to get Volkoff, and you need to bring me up to speed."

"Uh huh," James replied, tearing himself away from the sight of them kissing each other again and looking at Casey.

"Agent Carmichael and Agent Walker will remain here," Casey began, raising his voice so that all the DSS agents could hear, before pointing at one of them, "you stay here and guard the area. Let's move out!"

All the men grunted in synchrony, and Casey grinned; they were his kind of men, before turning to James, who was looking at Chuck and Sarah again, his emotions filtered down to disbelief and admiration. "Eyes front, soldier."

Chuck pulled back out of the kiss, and Sarah stared at his swollen lips as he rested his forehead on hers.

"Did Casey say something?" she whispered, looking into his deep, brown eyes as he studied her face intently.

"No," he replied, closing in and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her lips, "I don't know."

She leaned in again, and gently caressed his lips with hers, placing her hands on his cheeks. "I love you," she whispered, as she pulled away and studied the way his fringe had grown slightly, and how the animal shapes were making a reappearance.

"I love you," he replied, kissing her again.

She continued pressing kisses to his mouth, whispering "I love you" as he did the same, completely oblivious to the fact that everyone had left, until they returned much, much, later.


	17. C&S vs the Third Omaha Part II Chapter 6

**Chuck & Sarah vs. the Third Omaha Part II—Chapter 6**

**I'm not really sure where this first scene came from... I just, sort of, wrote it, and it came out funny (I think), rather than a bit dark (as it was intended). I hope it doesn't ruin the whole thing :|.**

**Also, I don't know why, but I'm genuinely terrified about posting this chapter. I think it's because it's fairly momentous, and I don't want it to suck. I hope it doesn't...**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"Urgh," Chuck groaned as he stretched his back and it scraped against the concrete wall through his white dress shirt. His eyelids dragged themselves apart, revealing nothing. In fact, the combination of numbness from whatever drug that had been used on him and the oppressive darker-than-black darkness in the room, made him unsure as to whether his eyes were actually open or not. He strained to remember what had happened, as he tried—and failed—to wiggle his toes. He was kissing Sarah, he remembered it had felt like hours, and then Casey suddenly interrupted, and... _Wait_. _Sarah_! "Arah!" he grunted. Apparently his vocal chords were in the same state as the rest of his body. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he shouted out into the darkness a few more times, before he finally heard her voice tinkling out from a few feet away.

"Chuck?"

"Sarah?" _Finally_, he could speak again, it seemed.

"Chuck, are you alright?" she whispered, and his felt a hand reaching out.

With a massive display of willpower, he grabbed it and squeezed it. "I'm fine," he replied, though his scratchy, low voice told a different story. "What the hell happened?"

Sarah groaned in response.

"Sarah?" Chuck asked, worriedly wrenching his head in the direction of her voice, "are you okay?"

"Mm," she replied, "tried to move my arm. Didn't work."

"Yea," Chuck replied, attempting to chuckle, but coming out with a throaty Casey-esque grunt instead, "I know what you mean... What happened though?"

"Fucking traitorous, double crossing, commie FSB bastards!" Casey's shout came from the opposite side of the room.

"Bloody 'ell, mate. Calm down," Cole replied, also speaking from near Casey.

"Calm down?" Casey growled, "I'll give you 'calm down,'" Casey yelled at Cole, before screaming out and promptly going silent.

"Casey?" Chuck called out.

"Bloody commie drugs," came the response.

"I don't know if my eyes are open or not," Chuck mumbled.

"It's because it is so dark in here, and the drugs have numbed your senses, so you have no way of telling if your eyelids are open or not," Sarah replied easily.

"You're really hot when you say smart stuff," he said airily after Sarah had finished.

"Apparently it also affects the ability to keep your mouth shut," Casey added grumpily. "Moron."

"What happened anyway," Cole asked after a few minutes had passed with them sitting in silence whilst Chuck and Sarah held hands, "why are we even here? In a Russian dungeon?"

"The FSB ambushed and drugged us as we were leaving the Volkoff building."

Everyone turned to look at James—or rather, struggled to turn their heads in the general direction of his voice—and sported quizzical expressions. That no one could see.

"What?" he asked, taking their silence as bemusement, "don't you remember?"

"No..." Sarah said, "I think the drug removes the last few minutes of memory. The last thing I remember was kiss—" She stopped. There was no need to finish _that_ sentence.

James coughed in reply; apparently he remembered watching that as well. "Well, I can remember it all, and I can move."

"What?!" Cole said, as Chuck heard a clambering noise, followed by thud.

"Um, apparently we're moving," James said with a groan. "And we've just stopped," he added.

Chuck flinched as the back door was swung open, flooding what was indeed the back of a van with bright sunlight. He eased his eyelids open, allowing his pupils to adjust to the sudden change in lighting conditions, and looked around, taking in the scene. Next to him was Sarah, whose hand was still wrapped around his own, and opposite them were Cole and Casey, slumped against the wall. At the back, opposite the door, was an old, grey haired man who Chuck recognised as Volkoff; despite him being several years older than his GCHQ photograph; and James, who was leaning against the wall, and looking at Casey. Chuck looked back at Casey, and saw him subtly mouthing something to James. "_Take them out._" Chuck frowned, and looked back at the door, where there were two men standing, one with a gun and one with a box.

The shorter one of the two men stuck his head into the van, as the other one set his box down on the floor and flipped open the lid. "We apologise for having to detain you," the man began, "but there were some security concerns that had to be addressed. You are now free to go."

"And how the hell can we do that when we can't move?" Casey growled, looking at James through the corner of his eye.

"My comrade has the antidote," the short man replied, gesturing at the tall, lanky man next to him, who had pulled out a packet of syringes. Chuck blanched.

"Where's the rest of our team?" Sarah asked, catching Casey's eye and giving him a subtle nod.

"The Diplomatic Security Agents have been safely returned to the U.S. Embassy in Moscow," the short man replied, as the tall man stepped into the back of the van, causing it to creak and sink down. He flicked the tip of the long needle with his fingertip, and Chuck shuddered. The man man knelt down next to Sarah, and Chuck's eyes widened, as he sucked in a breath, but just as he leaned forward with the needle, James ran past and slammed into him at full pelt, smashing him into the side of the van, making it lean to one side and causing Chuck to roll into Sarah. Then Casey lifted himself up with a massive shout and punched the shorter man square in the face, crushing his nose and sending him flying backwards; landing on the ground with satisfying _thud_.

Casey then jumped out of the van, and fell fell down onto the floor, kicking up dust into the open van. "Commie drugs..."

"Can you move yet?" Chuck whispered into Sarah's ear, as he leaned into her side.

"No," she whispered back, "but I'm not sure why I'd want to."

Chuck coughed, drawing a look from James. "Can you two move yet?"

"No," Sarah replied, struggling to keep a straight face, "but I can move my hand a bit, so it shouldn't be too much longer."

"How do we know there won't be any side effects?" Cole asked, as he managed to slowly lift his arm off the floor.

"It looks like they brought us back to the airfield," Sarah replied, peering out of the open van doors, over Casey's head, "once we get back on the plane I can run some tests."

"What about Volkoff?" Cole asked, gesturing at the Russian (or rather, English) man slumped up next to where James was sitting.

Sarah groaned, she had forgotten about him. "The plane has a secure, pressurized hold, and we still have some of that 24 hour tranquilizer."

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck fidgeted in the co-pilot's seat of the CIA Learjet, which was still exactly where they had left it—in Hanger 8A—and glanced at Sarah's face nervously. She calmed slid the throttle forward, and smirked at Chuck when he jumped a bit as the plane began to smoothly roll down the runway. He looked up, which was a big mistake, since he felt a sort of rising clamminess as the plane picked up speed and the runway lights began flying past him at—he glanced down at the speed-o-meter—oh God, he slammed his eyes shut. "Sarah," he began warily, "I'm not sure if I'm the best person to be in here with you..."

She laughed. What. The. Hell. Here he was, terrified, and she laughed. "Chuck," she said, and he felt her hand on his, "Chuck, open your eyes, and you'll see why I wouldn't want someone else in here with me."

"No, I think I'll just go and get Casey," Chuck replied, still keeping his eyes shut as he fumbled with the his seat belt buckle.

"Chuck," Sarah said firmly, "the seat belt sign is still on."

"Sarah—"

"Chuck, open your eyes."

Chuck gulped. She was using _that_ voice. Slowly, he eased his eyes open, as a mixture of white and blue flooded his vision. "Oh." It was beautiful. The plane was just riding along the tops of the clouds, above which was a perfectly blue sky, framed by glowing yellow rays of the light from the Sun—which was just off to the left, hidden by the side of the aeroplane—that shimmered across the pristine white cotton-wool clouds and make the air within the cockpit sparkle as they reflected off from the many tiny dust particles gently wafting around.

She reached across the central console and tugged on the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to meet her lips. "Now you see why I don't want Casey here," she said, smiling against him.

"Mmhmm," he mumbled, before pulling back and cupping her face with his hand. "Is this thing on autopilot?"

Sarah snorted in reply and burst into a fit of giggles that had her bending over double and leaning into the flight yoke.

"What?" Chuck asked, before glancing worriedly at the yoke, "are you sure it's okay to lean on that?"

"Sorry," she laughed, completely unapologetically.

"What?"

"It was _so_ romantic."

"Um," Chuck said, bewildered, "I'm sorry?"

"For the record, the autopilot _is_ on, which is why me leaning on this is fine."

Chuck continued to watch her as her giggles subsided, and she turned to look at him, her eyes watering from the laughter.

"What was so funny?"

"Nothing," she shook her head. "'Is the autopilot on' was just so far away from the romantic moment I was expecting."

"I love you," Chuck chuckled, looked at her slightly flushed face.

"That's more like it," Sarah replied with a small laugh. "Why did you want to know about the auto—" she stopped, mid-sentence, and raised an eyebrow. "Really? In here?"

"Wha—" Chuck's eyes widened, "No! NO! I just wanted to know if me kissing you meant we were going to plummet to our deaths!"

"Sure," Sarah snorted, before schooling her face into a sultry smile. "Although, the autopilot _is_ on..." she whispered, pulling him in for another kiss.

**|CHUCK|**

"Bartowski, Walker," Casey's voice growled through the locked cockpit door as Chuck frantically pulled his trousers up, "I don't even want to know what you're doing back there, but the grunts are disturbing those of us trying to get back to a free-world time zone."

Chuck blushed bright red as he looked at Sarah who was smirking and buttoning up her shirt. "I think we've crossed a line with Casey..."

"He'll get over it," she replied, tilting her head at him. "Your buttons are done up wrong, here." She reached out and began to unbutton his shirt, before his grabbed her hand.

"Oh no no no," he said, pushing her away and doing it himself, "I know what's going to happen if you do that."

Sarah pouted adorably, and he leaned in to kiss her. "I thought you _didn't_ want this happening," she whispered hotly into his ear.

He groaned and pulled away, leaving her slightly short of breath. "I didn't want I didn't want it. But we have to land the plane in a few hours."

"If by 'we' you mean 'me', while you close your eyes, then I guess so," she replied with a grin, turning around and sitting back down in the Captain's chair.

"Hey!"

**|CHUCK|**

"They what did?!" Beckman bellowed furiously, her eyes blazing with fire as her face burned to the same shade of red as her hair.

"The FSB apprehended, drugged and captured us as we were exiting the Volkoff Industries tower," Casey replied with a dead set face, his eyes boring directly over Beckman's shoulder at the wall behind her.

"They are going to to have _hell_ to pay for this," she continued, "just wait until I get on the line with the DNI—"

"General," the Director said nervously from next to her, attempting to calm her down even though his own face was livid with rage, "I don't—"

"I will not have my Agents drugged and captured on a _sanctioned_ operation!"

"I trust that Mr Volkoff was retrieved successfully, despite the complications?" another voice cut through the moderated chaos. It came from the screen behind Beckman and the Director, upon which the image of C, the Chief of the SIS, was projected.

"Yes Sir," Cole replied, standing between Chuck and Casey, "he is currently in a cell at the detention centre here in Langley. I believe Agent Summerfield is working on a way to remove the faulty Intersect from his head."

"Yes," James continued, taking over from Cole with a small nod from Chuck, "the de-Intersecting device should be completed shortly, however there are some safety concerns that—"

"I don't care about the safety concerns," C replied, as his eyes steeled even further, if that were possible, "either the device works, and the Agent is returned to normal, or it doesn't and he is terminated. By the device, or otherwise."

James swallowed, and nodded once.

"If that is all," Director Williams ventured, and continued when he was met with silent acquiescence, "then you five are all dismissed."

They all nodded in synchrony, and turned on their heels before filing out of the office and into the entrance room. Sarah glanced at her watch before turning to Chuck and taking his hands into hers, "it's only 3pm, and I've got a _ton_ of paperwork to catch up on," she said with a small smile.

"Yea, yea, I've actually got some Intersect-y stuff that needs taking care of too. Drive home together?"

"The Porsche is waiting in the car park."

Chuck grinned and leaned in to brush a quick kiss against her cheek, and she felt some butterflies that made her wish Williams' secretary wasn't watching.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck glanced at the clock on the wall as he flicked the red velvet box open and shut between his thumb and forefinger. _4pm_. He looked down at the diamond ring in the box. Should he go through with this? If he was going to, he had to leave now. Did he want to propose to her like this, though? Surely she deserved to be whisked away to Paris by some James Bond type and propositioned to on the moonlit balcony of a Chalet in the middle of the French Riviera... He was shaken from his thoughts by sound of his office door beeping, and he checked the security feeds to find that it was Casey. With a frown firmly planted on his face, he leaned forward to buzz him in. "Casey?"

"Walker wanted me to let you know she is going to have to stay for a while longer," he grumbled, clearly unhappy that Sarah was using him as a messenger. "She said you could take the Porsche and go home if you wanted to," he added.

"Oh," Chuck replied, as his frown dissipated and was replaced with a slight annoyance; which he promptly shook away. It wasn't her fault. And actually, it gave him an opening. If he wanted to go through with this. "Okay. I'll go down and tell her when I leave." Chuck watched as Casey stood there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as he swayed back and forth slightly. "Casey?" Casey glanced down at the ring box that was still in Chuck's hand. _Oh, that's what he wants to talk about. Wait, he wants to talk about _that_?_

"You're thinking of proposing to Walker?" he began awkwardly.

"Um, yea," Chuck replied, unsure where this was going. Was Casey going to burst out and profess his undying love for Sarah now?

"You know, I proposed once..." he continued, pulling out a cigar and chewing on the end. His only tell; he was nervous. "to Kathleen. We had plans to go to the Falls—the American ones, not those socialist Horseshoe ones—I was about to ship out. I was young, things got screwed up, and I ended up proposing in a bus station. Not exactly romantic. But, I'll always have that day, that look on her face. What I'm trying to say is; there's no such thing as the perfect spot, the perfect time. You've always been insecure with Walker—don't give me that look—but she loves you, you love her. You don't have to be James Bond at the Eiffel Tower. All you need is the girl." With that, he turned on his heel and walked out of the office, flicking his cigar into the small wireframe bin next to it.

Chuck leaned back in his chair, as a grin slowly spread across if face, covering it in seconds. He was going to propose to Sarah.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck hummed nervously as he lit the candles he had placed around the room; three on each shelf either side of the bedroom door, five along the kitchen counter, and the two tea lights on the table set in between the front door and the bedroom. He had gone down to her office at five, after he had called Morgan to tell him that was allowed to tell Ellie know, and to tell them to get on the next flight to Washington, and told her he was heading home. He mentioned he was going to cook something, and she smiled and kissed him—after flicking a switch that turned the windows of the room opaque. Just as he plucked the leaves off the rose and slipped it into the thin vase in the centre of the table, the doorbell rang with a _ding dong_ that reverberated around the room. He fidgeted with his tie, try to ensure that it was perfectly centred, before slipping his hand into his blazer pocket to check the ring and walking quickly over to the door to open it. He smiled at the sight of Sarah in her slightly crumpled black business suit, with her shirt half untucked and hair tied back into a messy bun, and leaned forward to wrap his arms around her, pulling him into the apartment and kissing her.

"Chuck," she began, as he released her and pushed the door gently shut behind her, "what did you do?"

He grinned at the expression of wonderment on her face, and spread his arms wide, gesturing around the candlelit apartment. "What, this? Pfft, this is nothing."

She giggled—he remembered a time when he thought he would never hear that wonderful sound—and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Sorry," he replied, feigning pain as he rubbed where she had hit him. "I wanted to do something for you."

"You made burgers?" she asked, and he watched as her nose crinkled adorably whilst she sniffed the air.

"And I bought extra pickles."

"I love you," she declared.

**|CHUCK|**

"We've been talking about all of our bad times lately," Chuck began.

Sarah looked up from her plate with a puzzled expression.

"So," he continued with a small, nervous smile, "what's your favourite moment."

"Oh, that's a tough one," she replied with a raised eyebrow. "Hm," she feigned concentration and frowned. "In the hotel, in Paris. After we—"

"Ditched Beckman and before we ran away together?" Chuck finished with a knowing smile.

"Yep," Sarah nodded happily. "Your turn."

Chuck smiled, and reached across the table to hold her hand, chuckling slightly when she glanced down at it with a bemused frown and squeezed gently. "Well, I think my favourite moment is just about to happen," he said the words barely above a whisper, whilst he slowly slid off his chair; still holding her hand as the candles flickered gently in the otherwise darkened room; and kneeled down next to her chair. Dipping into his blazer pocket with his right hand, he looked up at her face with glazed eyes.

Sarah opened her mouth to say something, but her breath hitched when she saw him pulling out the red velvet box from his pocket, and dropping her hand to pull open the lid. Her eyes also glazed over when she saw the ring in the box, and she blinked them clear as he spoke.

"Sarah," Chuck began with a small smile, and a nervous swallow. "You have made me the happiest man on the planet—actually, no, scratch that," she laughed her small, beautiful, tinkling laugh, immediately relaxing him, "the universe. Will you let me spend a lifetime making you as happy as you have made me?"

She nodded slowly, a few small tears now escaping.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes," she whispered, before launching herself at him, pushing him back onto the floor and knocking the ring box out of the way. She leaned down, straddling him, and pressed quick soft kisses on and around his mouth, whispering "yes" after each one, as he wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her flush to him. His mouth found hers, and he pulled her into a long kiss, whilst her hands slid between them, unbuttoning his shirt before pulling off his blazer and sliding down to his belt.

**|CHUCK|**

Chuck reached out with his arm, feeling around on the carpet through the piles of clothing, before his fingers finally found the small red velvet box. He looked at Sarah, who was resting contentedly on his chest, her arms wrapped around him. Kissing her forehead, he pulled the ring out of the box as she looked up at him. "I take it that's a yes, then?" he asked with a small chuckle.

"No Chuck, that's what breakup sex feels like," she deadpanned.

"Oh, well in that case," he began to reply with a smirk, "I guess we won't be needing this." He moved to slip the ring back inside the box, before she jabbed him playfully in the side.

"Of course that's a yes," she grinned.

He smiled back at her, before lifting her left arm up and holding out her hand. He slowly pushed the ring onto her finger, before looking back up at her, his own face breaking out into a grin.

She lifted her hand to admire the ring for a moment, before leaning down to kiss him again, as he rolled her onto her back. It was going to be a _long_ night.

_~Fin~_

_**End of Part I: Volkoff**_

**It's over! :o. Just kidding, lol... I'll be taking a few weeks out, mainly to work on the joint project with LLC and finalise the plot for Part 2, but this story will be back. Part 2 will be completely separate from canon, I'm going to ignore everything that happened in the second half of Season 4 and all of Season 5 (side note: Part 2 won't be a new 'story', I'll just keep updating this one).**


	18. Part II: Eve (Prologue)

**Best Laid Plans  
><strong>_**Part II: Eve**_

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

Sarah grinned stupidly. She had been doing a lot of stupid grinning lately. During her firearms re-certification. At mission debriefings. Whilst she was debriefing Chuck. Whilst Chuck was debriefing her. She let out a happy sigh; Chuck was _great_ at debriefing her. In short, she grinned a lot when she wasn't really supposed to be grinning; like this one time Chuck and her were at a meet with some drug lords in Mexico, the gang leader said they sounded like an old married couple. Stupid grin. That stupid grin nearly got them killed. The debriefing totally made up for it, though. Tonight, however, was a perfect occasion for copious stupid grinning. It was their engagement party. Well, more like their engagement after-party. Their party-proper, held in the prestigious location of the courtyard of the Burbank apartment complex where the Bartowskis owned three of the four apartments (Casey counted as a Bartowski whether he liked it or not, and Sarah was pretty sure he liked it), had ended over three hours ago and, following a dinner at the place where they had had their 'second first date', they were now at the nightclub where their 'first first date' had ended so dramatically. In any case, she was engaged. To Chuck. Stupid grin.

"Sarah," she vaguely heard Ellie's voice calling her name through the layers of superfluous bliss, happiness and general feelings of _I love Chuck_. "Sarah, are you okay?"

"Hm?" she looked up to see Ellie sitting across the table from her. "How long have you been there?!"

Ellie laughed. "Oh, god Sarah," she said, rocking back in her seat, "I've been sitting here for a good half hour now."

"Oh," Sarah flushed a bright shade of red, "I guess I must have zoned out when Chuck left."

"Trust me, Sarah, you weren't exactly 'zoned in' when Chuck was here."

Sarah averted her gaze and nibbled on her lip, "Where is he anyway?"

Ellie snorted, and Sarah looked back up at her with an arched eyebrow. "He's talking to the DJ, said something about dancing and miracles."

She turned her head to look across the packed dance floor, through the clouds of smoke and the vibrant laser beams, and saw Chuck wading through the crowds back towards the booth that Ellie and her were sitting in. The moment he was close enough, she stood up and pulled his face to hers, giving him a long kiss, before pulling him down next to her and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Um, uh, what was that for?"

"You were gone for far too long," she mumbled into his neck.

"I was only gone for five minutes, Sarah," he laughed.

Sarah responded with a weak punch to his back.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"You laughed at me."

"I'm sorry," Chuck replied with all the solemnity he could muster, whilst at the same time keeping a straight face. "I promise to never laugh at you again. Even if you are adorable when you're fake-angry."

"Good. Where did you go?"

"Come with me," he replied, an adorable smile gracing his face.

"Why?" she answered warily.

"You'll see," he said simply, before pulling her up onto the dance floor.

"Um, Chuck—" she began, but stopped when she heard the first chords of the song. And then Chuck started to dance. Kind of. He began shuffling his feet and moving his arms to the drum beat. It was adorable. And then the singing.

_I believe in miracles... _

Oh god, she was singing to her. She blushed. Stupid grin.

_You sexy thing... _

He pointed at her when he sang that line. By now a small area had cleared around the dance floor. She spotted Alex and Morgan watching them from the front row of the spectators, and Casey watching Morgan from a few feet away. Where the hell did the spotlight come from?

_Kiss me, you sexy thing... _

He blushed even as he was singing it, but she grabbed his face and pressed a hard kiss to his lips anyway. He _did _ask for it.

_Keep on loving me, baby! _

The song ended, and she leaned forward to whisper in his ear. "I'll always love you."

"And I'll always love you," he replied, before kissing her. She didn't really notice the applause from their impromptu audience until after he had pulled back, whilst she was dragging him back to the car.

**|CHUCK|**

Under normal circumstances, the North Wing of the U.S. Capitol was a busy place, particularly when the Senate was in session. The reporters, buzzing around like bees in a summertime flower garden, hounded Senators and staff alike, looking for the one scrap of information that could break a new story for them. The staff rushed about, ferrying coffees and shuffling papers, all whilst speaking in hushed tones about what that Senator for Louisiana may have said to the Representative from Idaho. Then there were the Senators themselves, furtively hammering out deals in the corridors surrounding the Senate chamber, or yelling out in the corridors for the world to see. Today, however, there was none of this. The corridors had been cleared, and coffee rooms emptied. The doors to the North Wing were closed, flanked by two members of the U.S. Capitol Police. Inside, the hallways were patrolled by more Capitol Police, accompanied by black-suited men, complete with plastic earpieces and reflective sunglasses.

Within the chamber, the tension in the air was palpable. The votes had been cast, the fate of the highly classified bill was sealed, and every single man and woman in the room was waiting on tenderhooks for the announcement from the speaker.

"On this vote, the Yea's are 51, the Nay's are 49. A majority of the senators, duly chosen and sworn, have voted in the affirmative. The motion is agreed to." Even during a closed session, proper procedure had to be followed.

"The Bill, to be referred to only as TS/SEN-954316, will be passed into law, effective immediately. The relevant company will be informed. This closed session of the Senate is now adjourned."

TS/SEN-954316 was a Bill designed to allow greater sharing of information between the FBI and the other intelligence agencies. By unsealing all CIA files older than five years, and placing them in special codeworded compartments instead, it allowed the CIA archives to be accessed; something which would have normally been unthinkable. It was unthinkable for a very good reason. Some of the secrets held in the Langley vaults were best left as just that: secrets.

_~Author's Note~_

**Dun, dun, duuuunnnnn! :P... **

**I've posted this Prologue now, partly to show you guys that I'm still alive, and partly to tell you that I'm doing the NaNoWriMo this November. I'm really excited about this, and I think it'll improve my writing loads (hopefully). However, it will mean I won't be posting anything during November either. I know it's been a long time since anything's been updated, but I will be back in December with new episodes of **_**Best Laid Plans**_**, and possibly something else as well. In the meanwhile, you can keep track of me and my NaNoWriMo progress on my Tumblr (gautampk -dot- tumblr -dot- com) or on Twitter ( QuantumGautam) or my website (gautampk -dot- me). **

**Be back soon, **

**UKChuckster :D**


	19. Chuck vs the Bank Chapter 1

**Chuck vs. the Bank—Chapter 1**

**I know, I know. I said soon. This isn't soon. I'm sorry. I've had a disgusting amount of other stuff going on, not least my University applications. Now they're over (I got in, woo), I've got exams. Yay. **

**So, here is chapter one. I'm probably going to have to do updates ever other week, or something, at least until the end of January. Hopefully by February things will be back to normal. **

**Also, I'd like to thank my pre-reader, Hotski, for making sure this whole thing made sense. **

**Read and review, thank you :). **

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"Sarah," Chuck whispered, as he gently shook his fiancée's shoulder. "Sarah, wake up."

"Murghf," came her reply, muffled by her pillow.

Chuckling, he sat down next to her on the bed, and kissed her forehead as he tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Sarah, come on. Beckman's waiting."

"Tellhertowait."

As if in reply, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't have to answer it to know that it would be Beckman telling him, in no uncertain terms, that she didn't want to wait. With a sigh, he got up and moved over to the door. He was hoping to avoid doing this, but a combination of a late night and plenty of social lubricant had pretty much forced his hand. Wincing, he reached up, and flicked the light switch on.

And then he promptly received a pillow to the face.

The pillow dropped to the floor, revealing a grumpy Sarah, lying on her side and propping her head up with her hand as she looked at him with her big blue orbs. "That was mean," she said, scrunching her eyes shut and shaking her head, sending golden locks of hair flying over her face. "Urgh," she moaned, flopping her head back onto the bed, and pressing her hands to her ears, "how much did I drink last night?"

"You don't want to know," Chuck replied with a smile, "hang on. I'll get you some water."

"Mankmu," Sarah said, as her face sank into the mattress (the pillow was still on the floor by the door). Steadily, memories of the previous night's festivities came back to her. The engagement party Ellie had planned out was simply magical: the Bartowski family courtyard had been transformed into a glittering fairy-light-filled wonderland. She wasn't quite sure how Ellie had managed to put it all together at such short notice. Actually, Ellie was an organizational genius, so it wasn't really surprising at all. Following that, Chuck had whisked her away to the same restaurant where their second-first date had been so rudely interrupted. A smile flashed across Sarah's face as she remembered how Chuck had repeated his his "a woman like you" speech. And this time they actually managed to kiss. She blushed into the blanket as she remembered the look on Ellie's—and everyone else in the restaurant's—face after they had broken apart following what was, apparently, a pretty heated five minute make-out over the dinner table. Her only regret was that it didn't last ten minutes.

"Feeling any better?" Chuck's voice interrupted her reminiscence of her wonderful engagement party, not that she minded.

"Yes, actually," Sarah replied, pushing herself up so that she was leaning back against the headboard.

"Oh really?" Chuck replied, quirking an eyebrow and walking over to the bed with a tall glass of water. She had never been more happy to see the stuff. "How come?"

"Just…" she shrugged. "Remembering last night. Thank you," she added, taking the water from him and downing half of it in one go.

"What about last night?" he asked, the sides of his mouth twitching up just enough to betray the fact he was concealing a smile.

"The party, and dinner, and then the club…" Sarah replied, taking some more water, "but mostly how adorable my amazing fiancé was."

"Oh, fiancé, huh?" Chuck grinned, sitting down of the bed next to her.

"Well, I mean, he did give me this ring," Sarah replied coyly, lifting up her left hand and waggling her ring finger. "I can't imagine it would be a chastity ring, given what we did last night."

Chuck's gaze lingered on the diamond ring that was just sparkling in the yellow light of the early morning Sun, before he looked up into her eyes and shuffled closer to her. "I love you," Chuck said, kissing her gently on the lips.

"I love you more," Sarah responded, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him flush to her.

"Mm," Chuck moaned, before pulling back.

"Hey," Sarah pouted, "no fair."

"Sorry," Chuck chuckled, "but there is a reason I woke you up at six in the morning."

"Not to make extra sure this isn't a chastity ring?" she asked, still pouting.

"No," Chuck smiled and reached out to fiddle with the ring, "unfortunately not. Beckman called."

Sarah sighed. "Of course she did. Did you remind her that we've just become engaged?"

"Yep."

"And did she care?"

"Nope."

"Didn't think she would."

"No, I didn't either."

"So, what's the problem?" Sarah asked, seeming to resign herself to having the vacation cut short, and getting out bed to put some clothes on. Some _actual_ clothes. Not the sheer, barely-there thing she was currently wearing.

"Um…"

"Chuck?" Sarah queried, turning around to find him staring vacantly at her with a smile. Clearly, he was in his happy place. "I thought you _didn't _want to do that?" Sarah asked, grinning.

"Well, maybe I made a decision too quickly?" Chuck asked somewhat meekly.

"Uh uh, nope," Sarah said, turning around and leaning down to pull a pair of jeans out of her drawer. And then she felt two arms wrap around her, pulling her up again. Chuck grabbed her wrist and pulled out the jeans she was holding, dropping them onto to floor, before spinning her around and kissing her gently.

"Beckman can wait ten minutes."

"Mmhmm," Sarah moaned as his arms wrapped around her, "only ten?"

"Maybe thirty."

**|CHUCK|**

"Bartowski! Walker!" the General's not-exactly-happy voice came thundering out of the TV the moment Chuck connected the call. It had been a good hour since he had woken her up. As it turns out, thirty minutes wasn't enough for their morning activities. "Finally. Where the hell—" she paused for a moment, "Actually, I don't want to know."

"Ma'am, I thought we were on one week's leave?" Sarah asked, quickly jumping before Chuck could say something potentially embarrassing.

"You were," Beckman said, sighing when Sarah and Chuck both raised an eyebrow at her use of the past tense, "but something urgent has come up."

_At least she's got the courtesy to look sad_, Sarah thought. "And we have to come back to DC," Sarah stated with resignation.

"No, Agent Walker. You'll be flying straight out to Zurich. You're already booked on a flight. I do apologise for cutting your vacation short, but this cannot wait. The full briefing file should arrive in about ten minutes, with this morning's mail."

The screen clicked as Beckman disconnected the call, leaving Chuck and Sarah sitting at the foot of their bed, clad in only a pair of pyjama bottoms and a babydoll respectively. "So… Switzerland," Chuck said slowly, drawing out the vowels and turning to look at her.

"Switzerland…" she replied, nibbling on her lower lip. She was nervous for some reason.

"We should probably get something to eat before the mail arrives," Chuck said, attempting to change the subject.

"Yea…"

"What's wrong?" he asked gently, tilting his head at her.

"Nothing," she replied, plastering a smile across her face. If it was anyone else looking, it would be indistinguishable from her other smile; but Chuck was not just anyone else. "Let's go get breakfast."

He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing more. "I think they've got some Frosted Flakes in the cupboard."

"The breakfast of heroes," she quipped, her proper smile now firmly fixed back in place as she pulled on one of Chuck's shirts and followed him into the kitchen.

"See! I knew you had a sense of humour hiding in there somewhere," Chuck laughed.

"Shut up and get the box down," she smiled, pulling out a bottle of milk from the fridge.

**|CHUCK|**

"So they passed the Bill."

The voice echoed around the darkened room, cutting through the silence like a lightning strike slices open the night.

"Of course they did."

The second voice replied. The room was designed so that it was impossible to tell from which part sounds came from. There were no lights, and none of Them knew each others' names.

"What do we do now? This could seriously compromise the Plan."

A third voice entered the fray, although in reality it was impossible to determine which voice belonged to whom, or even if they were separate voices.

"We continue as planned. The operation has been executed flawlessly so far. I see no reason to panic."

And with that, the rest fell silent. Presumably, they had slunk back out through their own personal doors that lead to separate tunnels which opened out in completely different parts of the City. In any case, there was no further speaking. Too much speaking, and you might reveal something. And that's never good.

**|CHUCK|**

"Ah, Bob Hope Airport. It's nice to be back," Chuck sighed sarcastically as he wandered through the Duty Free, arm in arm with Sarah.

"You know, when I first landed here I thought I would be back in DC by the end of the week," Sarah said, pulling Chuck to a stop and picking up a perfume bottle.

"Oh really? How'd that plan pan out for you?"

"Terribly," she laughed. "Here, smell this."

Chuck plucked the strip of card on which Sarah had sprayed perfume out of her hand and sniffed it, before a small goofy grin appeared on his face.

"I take it you like that one?"

Chuck blushed slightly and leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Really? I don't remember that... Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"We'll get this one then," Sarah said with a satisfied smile.

"I've always wanted to go to Switzerland," Chuck commented slightly airily as they sauntered towards the cash register. "I mean, Geneva's always been where I wanted to go, but Zurich's still pretty awesome. I've always wanted to go to a real Swiss bank."

"Why?" Sarah asked a little too quickly. He turned to look at her, and corner of her eyes crinkled slightly as she winced.

"It's a _Swiss_ _bank_. Just imagine all the people who will have accounts there! Movie stars, spies," Chuck started a bit when she bit her lip at the last word, before promptly changing the subject.

"No, no. Why Geneva? Why not Zurich?"

"Geneva has CERN," he replied, going along

"CERN?" Sarah wondered aloud, before realisation dawned, "Oh, that physics lab? Yea, I've been there," she replied nonchalantly.

"You've _been_ to CERN?" Chuck's eyes boggled slightly.

"Um, yes? There was a Russian analyst working undercover there as a scientist. I had to look for him in that damn' tunnel."

"That damn' tunnel? The LHC? _That damn' tunnel_," Chuck scoffed.

"Shut up," she giggled shoving him playfully.

"Can I help you?" The cashier interrupted them, smiling with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, um, yes," Sarah placed the bottle of perfume down in front of the cashier and pulled out her boarding card.

"Thank you," the cashier said. "Where are you two off to today? Honeymoon?" she added, glancing at Sarah's ring.

"Oh, no. Not quite married yet," Sarah laughed, "just visiting some friends."

"How long have you been engaged?" she asked, directing the question to Chuck.

"About 24 hours," Chuck laughed in reply.

"Oo, you've got a while to go before the novelty wears off then," she said, and Chuck could feel Sarah's grip tighten on his arm.

"I don't think it will ever wear off."

"Hm. Well, your flight boards in twenty minutes, so you should probably go and wait by the gate."

"Okay thank you," Sarah replied curtly, before grabbing the perfume and pulling Chuck away from the cashier. "She was hitting on you!" she shout-whispered at him once they were put of earshot.

"I know! It was so weird. I've never been hit on like that before."

"You get hit on all the time, Chuck. You're just too sweet to notice."

"Name one time where someone, apart from you, has hit on me."

Chuck grinned triumphantly as Sarah stood there with an adorable frown and a small pout that was just begging to be kissed. So he did.

"Lou! And Hannah!" she exclaimed delightfully once Chuck had briefly kissed her. "And what was that for?"

"You're adorable when you're jealous," Chuck shrugged.

"I'm not jealous!"

"Uh huh."

"Okay. Maybe a little," she relented, and kissed him lightly, hooking her arm back through his. "The cashier tramp was right though, we really should get to the gate."


	20. Chuck vs the Bank Chapter 2

**Chuck vs. the Bank—Chapter 2**

**Before anyone says "They're in Switzerland, not Germany! Swiss German isn't the same as German!" German is close enough. I don't know Swiss German, I do know German ;) **

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"I can't believe you made me wear a suit to breakfast," Chuck grumbled as he fiddled with the lapel of his jacket.

"Chuck," Sarah replied sternly, looking up from the leather bound breakfast menu that she was reading, "we are in one of the most famous five star hotels in the world. You can't come down in a bathrobe."

Chuck pursed his lips into a small smile and bounced his eyebrows. Rolling her eyes, but with a smile firmly fixed on her face, she returned to perusing the menu. Of course, she fit into the atmosphere perfectly, not looking at all out of place in what was, quite frankly, the poshest hotel Chuck had stayed in. It was called something French that Sarah, unsurprisingly, managed to pronounce flawlessly. The best Chuck could manage was Bur ow Lac. He looked across the restaurant they were sitting in, glancing past the giant flower vase in the centre which was filled with large white gardenias - of course they would have Sarah's favourite flower - and looking out of the window at the green park (which was, incidentally, owned by the hotel) outside.

"Guten Morgen," Chuck looked away from the window to see that their waiter, dressed in a white tuxedo with a black bow tie, had arrived. "Herr, Frau, was möchten Sie um Frühstück zu essen?"

He looked up at Sarah, who was struggling to keep a straight face at Chuck's blank expression. "Guten Morgen," she replied, looking up at the waiter and smiling, "Ich denke dass, ich nur Müsli essen möchte. Mein Mann möchte ein Auswahl an Gebäckstück essen. Auch möchten wir zwei Kaffee." Chuck frowned when her eyes widened momentarily and she blushed after she had finished ordering (at least, he assumed she was ordering).

"Ein Müsli, ein Auswahl an Gebäckstück, und zwei Kaffee. Dankeschön."

"What happened?" he asked once the waiter had gone. "Why are you blushing?"

"I'm not blushing!"

Chuck merely raised both his eyebrows. "Your skin is the same colour as those purple orchids over there."

"I may have called you my husband," Sarah mumbled.

"Sorry, I didn't get that," Chuck grinned at her. He heard her perfectly well.

"I said you were my husband," she said more clearly, causing Chuck's grin to widen. "I don't know the word for fiancé and the word for boyfriend is just Freund, which is the same as friend and doesn't feel right."

Chuck just continued to grin at her.

"Shut up!"

"I never said anything."

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he laughed.

"Who's the classy one now, then?"

"Still me."

Chuck opened his mouth into an O shape, feigning outrage. "It's clearly me."

Sarah folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Okay, yeah, it's totally you." And it was. Even though she was only wearing a simple pair of dark trousers and a grey turtleneck pullover, she was easily better dressed than all the business people in their stuffy suits. It went without saying that she was the most beautiful. "What did you order for me?"

She smiled cryptically and her eyes twinkled. "It's a surprise."

**|CHUCK|**

"Europe is genius," Chuck stated, looking at his platter of pastries. "I love you so much."

"I'm guessing you like my surprise breakfast?" Sarah laughed, spooning some muesli into her mouth. He wasn't quite sure how she managed to make eating cereal sexy.

"Pastries for breakfast!" he said, tearing off piece of croissant and eating it. "I can't believe you just got muesli."

"The muesli at the Baur au Lac is world famous, Chuck. It's actually amazing. All the fruit are freshly chopped and everything."

"I'll stick with my high fat pain au chocolats," he replied.

In response she slowly picked up a spoonful of muesli, and sensually wrapped her lips around the spoon, before easing the spoon out of her mouth, rubbing some of her pink lipstick onto it in the process.

Chuck dropped the piece of Danish pastry he was holding. "You do that again, and we're never leaving this hotel."

"As much as I'd love that, we have a mission to do."

"Yea," Chuck pouted, "it seems a waste of a $1000 a night."

"We'll be making full use of the nights Chuck," she deadpanned, before giving him a salacious wink.

He choked on his coffee. "So what's the plan?" he asked, speaking thickly through his scalded tongue.

She laughed, and leaned across the table to kiss him gently on the lips. "Better?"

He smiled goofily at her and nodded. "What's the plan?"

"Basically we need to get hold of whoever has been accessing Volkoff Industries' Swiss bank account since we captured him."

"Right. And bank is the Credit Suisse headquarters?"

She bit the inside of her cheek when he said that. "Yes. On Paradeplatz. It's just up the road from here."

He raised an eyebrow but decided to ignore it. "But we have no idea what the guy looks like."

She sighed. "No. We don't. If we can get hold of the security cameras we might be able to see who was accessing bank accounts at a specific time."

"And we will also know exactly when Volkoff's account was accessed because the NSA is monitoring it," Chuck added.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied.

"We should go to the bank and check it out. If I know what their security's like it'll be easier to get into."

She sighed. "Fine."

"Sarah," Chuck began, this had gone on long enough, "what's wrong? Every time I mention that bank you wince, or sigh or frown or something."

"Nothing's wrong. Do you want to pay up here, and I'll go grab some stuff from the room?"

"Sarah."

"I'm fine, Chuck," she replied, brushing a kiss over his lips before getting up and walking towards the elevators. Chuck remained sitting in his seat, nibbling on the corner of a croissant. Why was she so nervous about going to this bank?

"Hallo." Chuck started when he heard the waiter come up to the table again. "Möchten Sie sonst noch etwas?"

Chuck stared blankly at him for a moment, before waving his hand, attempting to mime signing a bill.

The waiter nodded and smiled at him and walking away again, before promptly coming back to with the bill and a card reader.

"Um, could you add it to the room please?" Chuck said, speaking slowly and clearly, not knowing if the waiter spoke English or not.

"Yes, of course sir," he replied, speaking in perfect English with a barely noticeable German accent. Chuck looked at him, dumbfounded, whilst the waiter just smiled at him.

"Th- thank you?" Chuck replied, and the waiter turning on his heel, still smiling, and walked away.

**|CHUCK|**

"That building looks like it belongs in Transylvania," Chuck said, looking up at a gothic style building as they turned left, leaving the main road.

"It's a French Renaissance style. It's very common in Paris," Sarah replied casually from her position on his shoulder. "The Hotel de Ville looks very similar, but a lot more fancy."

Chuck looked down at her in surprise.

"What?"

"I didn't know you knew so much about architecture."

"I took a course in architecture at Harvard," she shrugged, as they reached the pavement on the opposite side of the crossing.

"Learn something new everyday," he replied, and Sarah stuck her tongue out at him. "How much further is it to the bank?"

"It's just down here. That was Talstrasse we just left, and we're now on Bleicherweg, which leads to Paradeplatz."

Bleicherweg was a small street, flanked by the UBS headquarters on one side, and a large branch of another bank on the other. "How come there are so many banks here?"

"No idea," Sarah replied, "Credit Suisse is just up ahead."

Chuck looked ahead, and saw the street open up into a vast square, surrounded on all sides by large imposing buildings. On his left, there was an exclusive private branch of HSBC, and as they passed it, three men, two of whom were clearly bodyguards (after four years in the CIA, Chuck could tell) stepped swiftly into the building, and were greeted by a man in an Armani suit. All around him, the surroundings oozed wealth and power. It was somewhat awe inspiring.

"There's Credit Suisse," she said, pointing ahead and to the left of the square." He noticed how she said it with a proper French accent, pronouncing the Suisse with an ooo-eee sound instead of just saying Swiss, like he did.

The Credit Suisse building stood resolutely on the northern side of the square. It had a timeless appearance to it, unlike the much smaller UBS headquarters just behind them. "That's... big."

Sarah laughed. "Yes, it is. Are you sure you can get into their security systems, Chuck?"

"I don't know. Given enough time, any system will crack, but with a time limit, I don't know. Can we go in? It'll be helpful to get a look on the inside."

Sarah stood next to him, nibbling her lower lip, and Chuck watched her with a frown on his face. She would tell him what was bothering her when she felt ready. After what seemed like a long deliberation, she finally said yes, and they made their way across the wide square. When they reached the gold bordered glass doors that stood under the opulent front façade, she hesitated for a moment before pushing the doors open. They stepped inside, and Chuck gaped.

The floor was marble, spanning the full ten metre width of the reception room, and just underfoot was a wide strip of plush red carpet which acted like a pathway to all if the different doors and staircases leading away from the reception. Immediately ahead lay the obligatory metal detectors, and beyond that was a intricately carved oak reception desk. Flanking either side of the desk were huge oak doors that had been swung open, leading to the bank vaults behind, and beside the doors were staircases. The staircases were wide. Wide enough to comfortably fit a full row of linebackers across them. The banisters were supported by ornate stone pillars, carved into oval shapes that tapered at both ends, and polished so that Chuck could see his reflection glinting in them from the other side of the room.

He looked back at Sarah, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a small smile, before she pulled him forward through the metal detector. And then several things happened at once.

First, he flashed. He had spotted a security camera, hidden in an alcove on the ceiling above the reception desk, and it promptly revealed to him everything the CIA and NSA knew about their security system. The trouble was, they didn't know much. Not nearly enough for him to he able to easily hack into it. As he turned to tell Sarah, the other thing happened.

One of the smaller oak doors to thier right swung open, and a man came striding out towards Sarah. She was biting the inside of her cheek. As he approached her, he stuck out his hand.

"Hello, Miss Burton. It's been a while since we've seen you here."

**|CHUCK|**

"You have an account?" Chuck asked in disbelief, "here?" They were sitting in a small side room just off the reception area, which Sarah had requested.

"Yes," she replied, averting her gaze slightly.

"Is that why you didn't want to come here?" She didn't reply, just kept staring at a point over the top of his shoulder at the wall opposite. "Sarah look at me, for God's sake!"

She snapped her head back down, looking him in the eye. Her eyes were slightly hazy.

"Sarah, why didn't you just tell me?"

She didn't reply.

He took her hands into his, and she relaxed slightly. She stopped chewing her cheek to hell and back, at any rate. "Can you at least tell me how much is in the account? It must be a lot, for the manager to come out and greet you himself."

"20 - " she said, her voice breaking slightly.

"20 thousand?"

She shook her head. "20 million. Dollars."

For the second time that day , Chuck was rendered speechless. "20. Million."

She nodded slowly.

"Why didn't you tell me? Don't you trust me," he added half jokingly and her head snapped up again, "worried I'll spend it all on video games?"

"No," she said firmly, "I would I trust you more than anyone Chuck. Don't even joke about that."

His expression grew sombre again, "I'm sorry," he said, stroking the back of her hand gently, "then why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "It's con money, Chuck. It's not mine. I kept it as a - " she faltered.

"As a what?"

"A getaway stash. But I don't need it anymore. I just didn't know what to do with it. And I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to think less of me." She mumbled the last bit, but he heard anyway.

Immediately, he dragged his chair closer to her and wrapped his arms around her. "Sarah," he sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said, talking over him.

"Why would you ever think I would think less of you?"

"It's stolen money, Chuck," she said, "That's why it's in a Swiss bank."

"I know you're not proud of who you were, Sarah. But it doesn't bother me. Not even a bit. I don't care who you were, I now who you are now, and I love you."

"I love you too," she replied thickly, and he pulled her away from his shoulder and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"I will always love you, okay?"

She nodded, and he briefly kissed her again.

"I've been wondering," he said, deciding to change the subject, "how did they recognize you? If had been so long since you came here..."

"They have my photo on file, they took it when I opened the account. I suppose they've got some kind of facial recognition - " she stopped and looked at the way his eyebrows rose. "What?"

"Sarah... If they've got facial recognition, then must have photos of everyone with an account, right?"

"I guess..." she replied, unsure as to what he was getting at.

"And they probably use it for security, to make sure no one unauthorized can access a bank account?"

"Probably."

"So," he paused for a moment, "they probably have the photo of the guy who is accessing Volkoff's account. Right?"

Sarah's eyes grew wide as she looked at him. "Yes! Can you get into the databases?"

"It'll be a damn' side easier than getting into their security," he chuckled, and she looked at him inquisitively. "I flashed," he explained, "just before the guy came. Their security is state of the art, and the NSA has basically no info on it. It would take be weeks to get into it."

"But won't the databases be just as secure?"

Chuck shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Most people who hack into bank security are in it to get the money, so they'll focus all their efforts on that. The security around their databases will probably be much more lax."

She still looked unsurely at him.

"Why don't we go back to the hotel and I can give it a go. If it doesn't work, we can come up with another plan tomorrow."

"Okay," she replied, her smile turning wicked, "but if you're taking me back to the hotel, don't expect an _uninterrupted_ hacking session."


	21. Chuck vs the Bank Chapter 3

**Chuck vs. the Bank—Chapter 3**

**I am so, so sorry :(**

_~Disclaimer: Chuck belongs to NBC and Warner Bros., not me. If it is for sale, please let me know so I can buy it. However, until then, I make no money from this. Please don't sue me!~_

"Hey," Chuck said softly, not looking away from the laptop in front of him as he felt Sarah lean down from behind, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth.

"It's one in the morning, Chuck. Come and get some sleep," she said, wincing slightly to shield her eyes from the harsh glow of the screen in the otherwise dark room.

He sighed, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbing them. "I'm so close though. It's just this final layer of security that's got me stumped."

She grabbed his wrists firmly, stopping him from rubbing his eyes raw, and pulled him up out of the plush armchair that he was sitting in. "You've not slept properly since the flight. I don't want you to be sleepy when we go back to the bank, and we didn't get much last night either."

"And whose fault is that?" he asked, his tired eyes twinkling.

She smiled gently and let out a monosyllabic laugh before turning serious again and grasping his shoulders. "I'm serious Chuck. Come to bed. Sleep on it. Maybe you'll have some new ideas in the morning." He sighed, replying fine with a large exhalation, and she turned him around to face the bed, before slowly pushing him towards it. Once he was under the covers, she crawled in next to him, and smiled when she felt him hug her from behind.

"You just wanted wanted me here to keel to warm," he said, tightening his grip around her.

"Guilty," she sighed, before dropping off to sleep.

Chuck stayed awake, breathing in the scent of her soft hair and stroking her hands, which were clasped loosely together in front of her chest. His fingers reached the ring that was firmly attached to her finger, and he smiled when he realised that she had never taken it off, even when they were on the mission. He had always figured she would take it off when they were on a mission. 'Protecting the cover' or something. As he ran his finger over the diamond fixed into the centre of the ring, he felt her rolled around in his arms, and found himself staring into her bright blue eyes.

"I told you to go to sleep," she whispered, the sides of her mouth curling up slightly as she poked him gently in the stomach.

"I couldn't," he breathed, the tip of his nose just touching hers. "You kept your ring on."

"Why wouldn't I?" she replied coyly, sliding her hands around him to meet behind his back.

Chuck half-shrugged with one shoulder. Instead of replying, he tightened his arms around her, pulling her closer and pressed a kiss to her lips before resting his forehead on hers. "I love you."

"Me too," she replied, before brushing a quick kiss over his lips. "Now let's go to sleep."

Sarah woke to a cold bed. She hated cold beds. Before she had come to Burbank, she had always tried her hardest to make sure she staying in exactly the same place throughout the night. Given her tendency to not really sleep, just staying half awake and shutting down enough to basically trick herself into thinking she had slept, it wasn't all that hard to stop herself from moving in her 'sleep'. But, since Chuck, she had become used to sleeping properly, and having a bed-warmer lying next to her that she could wrap herself around if she was cold. Due to the lack of Chuck this morning, it was a cold, grumpy Sarah that threw off the covers and flopped down in the seat next to Chuck in front of his computer.

"You're up," he said, distractedly brushing a kiss over lips before turning back to the computer

"Any progress?"

"Yes, actually. Loads."

"Well, at least I didn't up to a cold, empty bed for nothing."

He raised his eyebrow. "There was a flaw in the security they used for their website admin, and I was able to island-hop my way into the customer database. I have the photo."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Sarah looked him for a moment, as if trying to decide on something, and then, quite suddenly, she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door.

"Wait, we're going now?" Chuck asked, "we know he doesn't arrive before 1pm."

"Just come with me Chuck, I want to do something first."

**|CHUCK|**

"Miss Burton," the bank manager once again greeted them moments after they had passed through the entranceway to the headquarters, "how nice to see you again. Have you reached a decision on your account?"

"Not quite," Sarah replied, keeping her arm firmly wrapped around Chuck's, "can we carry this on in private."

"Of course, we can go to my office. Will your—" he paused, fishing for the correct word to use.

"Fiancé," Sarah finished for him.

"Will your fiancé be joining us?"

"Yes."

Sarah smiled at him briefly, before he turned and lead them back into his office. Once they were inside he paused for a moment beside the oak cabinet next to the door. "I hope you don't mind; I haven't had my coffee yet," he said by way of explanation as he pulled out a large bottle of whiskey.

"Not at all," Chuck replied, giving a sidelong glance at Sarah before sitting down in the seat opposite the manager's and next to Sarah's.

"So, Miss Burton, what can I do for you?"

"For now, I just want to add Chuck here to the list of account-holders." She felt Chuck stiffen next to her, and smiled.

The bank manager flicked his eyes towards Chuck and back to Sarah. "Very well, is that all for now?"

"Yes, that's everything. We may call in the future once we reach a final decision." He excused himself to go a retrieve the relevant paperwork, and Sarah turned to Chuck. "Chuck," she said, taking his hand into hers, "Chuck."

"Huh, hm?" he replied, shaking out of his stupor.

"Surprise," she said somewhat weakly, "are you okay?"

He bobbed his head for a few moments, looking over her shoulder at the oil painting of the headquarters on the oak panelled wall opposite. "Yea, um. I think so." He paused for a moment. "Sarah I don't want this money. It's not mine. Not ours."

"I know, Chuck," she replied, rubbing soft circles on his hand. "But we don't have time to make a decision now. And when we do; I want us to be able to make it together."

She watched as Chuck's eyes momentarily drifted shut, and then he smiled gently. "I love you."

"I love you more," she quipped, smiling.

"I'm afraid the pile to sign is quite large," the bank manager huffed as he walked through the door lugged a ream of paper in his hands. "It's mostly legalities; you only need to sign three times and then we'll need a photograph for our records."

The manager walked him through the paperwork, but he always glanced towards Sarah looking for her imperceptible nod before he put pen to paper and actually signed anything. She was a Harvard-trained lawyer after all. He finally reached the final page and glanced over it; but one line in particular caught his eye:

_Bank No.: 478340MCMXCIX_

_Owner: Samantha Lisa Burton (United States of America)_

_Opening Balance: CHF 9,000,000_

_Current Balance: CHF 19,000,000_

_So it is Lisa..._ He brushed away the thought and signed on the dotted line.

"Congratulations Mr Bartowski," the bank manager said with a smile, before they got up and he walked them out of his office. "I hope to see you again Miss Burton," he said, before turning to Chuck, "Mr Bartowski. Good luck with the wedding."

Chuck smiled and shook his hand, before linking an arm through Sarah's and turning to leave the headquarters. As they left, he leaned down to Sarah's ear and whispered, "he's here. He's just gone into the vaults."

Sarah immediately stiffened, quickly glancing over her shoulder and spotting a brown-haired man disappearing into the depths of the ancient bank. "We'll wait for him at the tram station," she said, pulling Chuck across the crowded Paradeplatz to sit down in the tram station that was located at its centre.

**|CHUCK|**

Sure enough, two minutes after they had sat down on the hard plastic bench, both Chuck and Sarah's phones pinged with a message from Beckman to say that the bank account had been accessed again. They presumed it also included a rant about 'what the hell they were doing' and that they should 'finish the damn' mission already', but they were too engrossed in selling their cover to bother actually checking their phones. Sarah moaned gently as Chuck moved his kiss down along her neck, continuing to tangle his hands in her hair. It was the perfect arrangement. She was getting some last-minute European necking in with her fiancé (onlookers be damned), _and_ she had an open view of the Credit Suisse front door for when the guy they were after—a Mr Johnson according to the database—appeared. Which was just about now.

"Chuck," she said breathlessly.

"Hm," he replied, pausing for a moment to look at her.

"He's here."

In an instant Chuck untangled himself from her embrace, and swivelled slightly on the bench so that they were now sitting next to each other, both facing the headquarters. "I see him."

Sarah didn't reply, instead she stood up, pressed a finger to her lips and hooked her arms through Chuck's. She trained her eyes on him, ignoring everyone else. As far as Sarah was concerned, there was no one else in Paradeplatz right now. Johnson turned to the right, leaving the square on the opposite side to which Chuck and Sarah had arrived. As she tilted her head to lean on Chuck's shoulder she noted the way Johnson was hunched over, pulling his long grey overcoat high up on his shoulders and burrowing his neck into the upturned collar. "Whatcha got Chuck?" she whispered like a ventriloquist, not moving her lips at all.

"No one suspicious. Looks like he's on his own."

"Follow him until we get to an isolated spot," she murmured in reply, before returning to her previous position on his shoulder. They followed Johnson out of Paradeplatz as he turned left onto Bahnhofstrasse. Sarah tensed for a moment when she couldn't spot him once they had rounded the corner, but relaxed when he appeared from under the shadow of one of the many trees that bordered Switzerland's most exclusive street. Then, suddenly, he bolted.

He had glanced over his shoulder, and momentarily glanced at Sarah, before he turned and ran with the speed of a raging bull, down the road. Sarah picked up her head from Chuck's shoulder and ran after him, tearing past the exclusive shops that were abundant on the road as he feet pounded on the hard asphalt road. Her hair whipped around her face as she narrowed her eyes to protect them from the air that was rushing into her face and saw him cross the road, shoving a man out of the way and send his shopping crashing to the floor.

"Stop!" she yelled, galloping over the clothes that were now strewn over the road, wincing slightly at the impact of her legs on the ground when she landed on the ground. Up ahead, she spotted him again. He was getting closer to her. She was gaining on him. With renewed energy, she took a breath and continued the chase, watching as he attempted to throw her off by feinting one way and then the other. He was getting desperate. He didn't she was still a good ten metres behind him. "Mr Johnson!" she called again to no avail. He picked up the pace again, before suddenly careering across the road again, leaping over the bonnet of a car the came to a screeching halt as he slammed his hands down onto it.

This time, he didn't straighten out his course; instead he ran straight into a private side road which curved back on itself, into a small enclosed alcove. She had him cornered. He also seemed to realise this. Not that it stopped him from continuing. Sarah felt her legs begin to burn as she adjusted to the different ground on the private road, with a quick glance behind her she noted that no one on Bahnhofstrasse could see them anymore, though she was sure that the Police had been called. She brushed the hair out of her eyes again, and reached into her under-arm holster to pull out the ceramic knife she kept there. "Mr Johnson! You're cornered. There's no way out," she said again, as she ran to a halt in front of him. Behind him was a large semi-circular lobe attached to whatever building the courtyard they were standing in belonged to, and to his right was the northern arm of the same building. Behind her, the building bend around to form a 'U' shape, and to her right she saw Chuck coming round the corner, red-faced and panting. "There's no way out Mr Johnson," she repeated, raising her knife.

"Who are you?" he spat, walking slowly backwards.

Sarah glanced up at the wall behind him, categorizing all the windows in the building. There were none that were low enough for him to be able to be pulled up, and she couldn't see anyone peeking out from them. They were alone. "CIA. Turn yourself in, and we can settle this now. No one gets hurt."

He smirked. Sarah hated smirkers. "I beg to differ."

Sarah glanced down to see he reached for his hip. She barely heard Chuck yell "look out", but felt her knife leave her hand, flying through the air with precision that had been developed over years of practice, and landing squarely in his thigh. Johnson screamed, and the gun he was reaching for clattered to the ground as he grabbed his thigh with his hand.

"Who do you work for?" Sarah asked, calmly watching as the man began to bleed out. "If you tell us we'll get help."

"I suggest you speak to Mr Winterbottom," Johnson looked up and sneered through his ragged breaths.

"You're under arrest Mr Johnson."

"I think not," he said, biting down hard on his tooth.

There was a crunch as something cracked, and Chuck watched in horror as his pupils dilated to fill almost his entire iris and his skin flushed a deep shade of red. Not seconds later he was lying on the floor, his tongue lolling out as a small dribble of saliva dribbled out from the side of his mouth.

"Cyanide," Sarah said, leaning down to sniff his breath. "Damn' it!" she groaned, wheeling around and yanking her knife out of his thigh, "I hate it when they do that."

"Are you sure you want to pick that up?"

Sarah glared at him for a moment before her shoulder slumped and half heartedly threw the knife back into his thigh, where is slotted exactly into the wound it had created before.

"What do we do now?" Chuck asked. "The police will probably on their way."

"Hotel," she said tersely, "we need to get out here."

"Wait, hang on a second Sarah."

"What?"

"He knew we had Hartley."

"Yes," said Sarah with a frown, "he was raiding Volkoff's bank account."

"No, he knew we had _Hartley_."

"So—oh."

"Yeah."

"He knew that Volkoff was Hartley," Sarah said, finally voicing the thought.

"Which means that that was no accident. Someone _meant_ for the Intersect timeout to fail."

"We need to get back to Washington. Now."

_~"It all depends on how we look at things, and not how they are in themselves." __―Carl Jung~_

Next time on Best Laid Plans:

"New Zealand?"

"Yep," Beckman replied.

"Why New Zealand? All they have there are sheeps..."


End file.
